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Author of "In His Steps," " Overcominu the World," "Hli 

Brothers Keeper. ' "Crucifixion of Philip Strong," 

"Robert Hardy's Seven Days," "Richard 

Bruce," "The Twentieth Door," "The 

Redemption of Freetown," Etc. 

Toronto t 

Thb Pools Publishing Company 




MAY 2 ^ 1967 

Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, * 

the year one thousand nine hundred and one, by 

The PotiLK PuBLisHiwr. Company, at tb« 

■ Department of Agriculture. i 



This little story, *'Born to Serve," was written with 
he purpose of calling attention to a real question, not 
with any purpose of attempting a solution of the prob- 
I lem. If the story serves its purpose in simply em- 
I phasizing in the minds of all who labor, the religious 
siile ot all human service, I shall count the task well 
worth all it has cost. 

Charles M. Sheldon. 

Central Church, Topeka, Kansas. 






T the same time, Richard," said Mrs. Richard 
Ward anxiously, "it comes back to the old 
question, What are we to do? You know 
I am r strong enough io keep house alone. We 
can't afford to break up our home and go in*c» a hotel, 
and yet it seems almost the only thing left to do. What 
shall we do?" 

"I dor ' understand why all our girls stay so short 
a time !" exclaimed Mr. Ward irritably. And then he 
looked across the table at his wife, and his look soft- 
ened a little as he noted more carefully her tired face 
and the traces of tears on her cheeks. 

"Oh, I don't understand it ! All I know is that they 
are all simply horrid. I do everything for them and 
never get anything but ingratitude from every one 
of them ! The idea of Maggie leaving me to-day of 
all the days, just when Aunt Wilson was coming, and 
Arthur home from college, and Lewis down with his 


accident ; it is more than I can bear, Richard. ] 
were any sort of a man, you would know what tc 

"Well, I am any sort of a man, and I don't 
in the least what to do," replied Mr. Richard 
to himself, as his wife laid her head down on the 
regardless of several dishes overturned, and brok 
sobs as a relief to her feelings which had been j 
ing in hysterical power ever since Maggie, the 
girl, had that morning not only given notice c 
departure but had actually left, after a brief but h 
discussion about the housework m the Ward li 

The two children at the table turned frigh 
' 'oks first at the father and then at the mother 
cne youngest of them began to cry. 

"Stop that, Carl!" exclaimed Mr. Ward shi 
Then, as he pushed back his plate with the food 
untouched, he muttered to himself: "I'm losin 
my Christianity over this miserable hired-girl bus 
It's breaking up our home life and wrecking th 
of our very children." 

The child's lip curled in a piteous effort at cc 
and the older one began eating again, looking 
father to mother anxiously. 

Mr. Ward rose, and, going over to his wife, h 
down by her and stroked her head gently. 

lard. If yoti 
what to do !" 
! don't know 
ichard Ward 
on the table, 
id broke into 
I been grow- 
ie, the hired 
lotice of her 
if but heated 
Vard family, 
i frightened 
mother, and 

ard sharply. 
IP food on it 
n losing all 
^irl business, 
cing the joy 

rt at control 
)oking from 

wife, he sat 

THU world yBED8 LOVE. 3 

"There, Martha, )ou are all worn out. Just go into 
the sitting-room and lie down. George and I will do 
up the dishes, won't wr, George? We'll play hired 
girl to-night, won't we?" 

"Let me help, too!" cried Carl. 

"Yes, you can help, too. Finish your supper, and 
we'll hive a jolly time washing a ' viping. Now, 
Martha, you go in and lie down. 3*11 get thmgs 
straightened out somehow." 

Mrs. Ward feebly i -otest^ !, hiu allowed her hus- 
band to lead her into ;he sitting-room, where she 
sank down on a lounge. 

"I've got a splitting headache, Richard ; leave the 
dishes until morning. You're tired with your busi- 

"No, I don't like to see them lying around. Be- 
sides, dirty dishes have a wav of growing with mirac- 
ulous rapidity when the girl's gone and things go to 
pieces like this," he said with a lapse into irritation 

"It's not my fault!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward sharply. 
"Carl stop that noise," she added as Carl began to 
gather up some of the dishes, piling the biggest plates 
on the little ones and letting Sxrveral knives and forks 
clatter to the floor in his eagerness to help. 



"Don't be always nagging the children, Martha 1" 
said Mr. Ward angrily, losing his temper for the tenth 
time that evening. The other times he had lost it 

"It's always," 'Stop that noise!' from mother when 
her head aches," said George as he tried to pick up 
the knives and forks quietly, and let them drop twice 
before he had them back on the table. 

"See me help! See me help!" sung Carl as he 
started towards the kitchen door with his arms full of 
dishes. The pile was too heavy for his strength ; and, 
as he neared the door the column began to topple, it 
balanced for a moment on the edge of safety, and 
then fell with a crash. The child looked at the ruin 
a moment in terrified silence, then sat down on the 
floor and began to cry. 

Mrs. Ward sat up on the lounge and looked at 
her husband almost savagely. 

"Richard Ward, if you don't do something to 
change all this — " 

She did not finish her sentence, but lay down and 
turned her face to the wall in despair. And Richard 
Ward, of the firm of Mead, Ward and Company, 
known in business circles as a good, agreeable, and 
fairly successful merchant, and in church circles as a 



consistent member and active Christian man, turned 
from his wife and went out into the dining-room with 
a look on his face that his minister had never seen, 
and a feeling in his heart that was a good way from 
being what might be expected in a man who was "in 
good and regular standing" in the Marble Square 

"It would be very funny, if it "were not so near a 
tragedy," he said to himself as he picked up the bro- 
ken dishes while the two boys looked on. "It would 
be comical, if it were not so miserably serious in its 
effects on our home life. Here I am doing the dirty, 
common work of the kitchen, I, Richard Ward, the 
dignified, wdl-to-do member of the firm of Mead, 
Ward and Company, all because of this girl, who — " 

He did not finish the sentence even to himself but 
went on with the work of clearing the table, making 
the two boys sit down in a corner of the dining-room 
while he did the work. When he had carried every- 
thing out, he let the children go out into the kitchen 
with him, while he carefully shut the door into the 
dining-room and then proceeded to "do up" the dish- 
es, letting George help, and finally, in answer to the 
younger boy's plea, allowing him to carry some of 
the indestructible dishes into the pantry. 


"It's fun, isn't it, papa?" said Carl, as the last dis 
was wiped and the towels hung up. 

"Great fun," replied Mr. Ward grimly. 

"Father means it isn't," said George with a super 
or wisdom. 

"Anyhow, I think it's fun. Only I don't like tJ 
old girls. They make mamma feel bad. Do they mal 
you feel bad, papa?" 

"Yes, my son, they do," replied Mr. Ward as he s 
down in one of the old kitchen chairs and took h 
younger son into his lap. And, if the truth were tol 
if his two small sons had not been present, it is po 
sible Mr. Richard Ward might actually have sh( 
tears over the constantly recurring tragedy of tl 
"hired girl" as it had been acted in various forms 
his own household during the last five years since th( 
had moved into the city and his wife's health begi 
to break down from household cares. 

"And yet I don't understand these women," 1 
said to himself as he sat there in the kitchen, his ch 
on the little boy's head, while George perched on tl 
kitchen table gravely observant. "We have everjrthii 
in the world to do with. Our family is not very larg 
Martha is kind, and gives the girls very many favo; 
We pay good wages and are ready to put up wi 


many kinds of incompetency, and yet we don't seem 
to be able to keep any sort of a girl more than three 
months at a time. It is breaking up our home life. 
It is simply absurd that I should be doing this kitch- 
en work, but Martha isn't well, and there's breakfast to 
get and all the work after it." 

He thought of his wife in the other room on the 
lounge, and was filled with remorse for her. 

"I was a brute to talk to her so sharply," he said 

out loud. 

"Brutes don't talk," said George from his elevated 
post on the table, speaking trom knowledge gained in 
a study of a natural-history primer given him by his 
Aunt Wilson. 

"Some of them do. The two-legged ones," replied 
his father. And then he rose, and with the boys went 
into the sitting-room. 

They found that Mrs. Ward had gone up-stairs in 
answer to a call from Lewis, the oldest boy of the 
family at home, who had broken his arm the week be- 
fore while engaged in sport at school. 

The duty of putting the two younger lads to bed 
devolved upon the father. He performed the duty 
without much heart in it. His wife was silent and in 
no mood for reconciliation. When Carl said his usual 












prayer, he added. "And bless Maggie, because 
is so bad, and has wandered far from the fold," 
peating a phrase he had heard at Sunday-school 
week before. And Mr. Ward listened with anytl 
but love of mankind in his heart, wondering whe 
he ought not to be included in the child's petition, 
teemed church mt iber though he might be in 
eyes of those who did not see into his home life. 

In the morning he faced a tired, listless, disci 
aged wife, sitting opposite him at a breakfast w 
had been prepared with his help, under protest, 
with a spirit of nervous depression that from exj 
ence he knew well enough meant a miserable da 

He rose from the table with a really desperate 
ing, saying again to himself, "It would be funny, 
were not so tragic." 

"I'll try to find some one, Martha,'' he said fe 
as he put on his hat. 

"I don't much care whether you do or not." 
answered indifferently. 

He was tempted to grow angry, but checked 1 

"I'll advertise. I'm tired of sending to the a; 

ecause she 
; fold," re- 
■school the 
h anything 
\g whether 
letition, es- 
be in the 
le Hfe. 
is, discour- 
cfast which 
rotest, and 
am experi- 
able day at 

perate feel- 
funny, if it 

said feebly 

r not." she 

ecked him- 

) the agen- 



His wife did not answer. 

"We'll do the best we can, Martha. There must 
be some competent girl in all this city somewhere." 

"If there is. we never found one," Mrs. Ward an- 
swered sharply. 

He wisely declined to discuss the question, and 

started to go out. 

"I'll not be home to lunch," he said, putting his 

head in at the door. 

There was no answer, and he slowly shut the door 
and started for his car at the next corner; and, of the 
many burdened, perplexed hearts carried into the city 
that morning, it is doubtful whether any out of all 
the number was more burdened than that of Mr. Ric!' 
ard Ward of the firm of ^Icad, Ward and Company. 
He sent in to three of the leading evening papers 
a carefully worded advertisement asking for a com- 
petent servant, and took up his day's work with its 
usual routine without the least expectation that any 
reply would come from his advertisements. It would, 
therefore, have givert him a peculiar sense of interest 
in the future, if at about six o'clock that evening, as he 
went out of his office and with strange reluctance start- 
ed for his home, he could have seen in a house not two 
blocks from his own a young woman eagerly reading 



the advertisement and talking to an older woman in a 
strangely subdued, but at the same time positive, man- 
ner concerning it. 

"Barbara, what you say is impossible! It is so 
strange that no one but yourself would ever have 
thought of it. You must give up any such plan." 

The younger woman listened thoughtfully, holding 
a newspaper in her hand ; and, as she looked up from 
it, the older woman had finished. 

"At the same time, mc her, will you tell me some- 
thing better to do?" 

"There are a thousand things. Anything except 

"But what, mother? I have tried for everything. 
Our friends" ''her lip curled a little as she said the 
word) "have all tried. No one seems to need me un- 
less it is this family. Here seems to be a real need. 
It will be unselfish, mother, don't you think, to do 
something to fill a real demand, instead of always beg- 
ging for a chance to make a living somewhere?" 

She took up the paper and read the advertisement 

"Wanted : A competent girl to do general house- 
work. A good cook, able to take !iarge of the house- 



keeping for a family of five. American girl preferred. 
Good wages. Apply at once to Richard Ward, No. 
36 Hamilton Street." 

"I call it a good opening, mother. And it's only 
two t' )cks from here. And I seem to fill all the re- 
quirements. I am 'competent.' I am a 'good cook.' 
I am an 'American girl.' And I am able to 'apply at 
once' because I have nothing else to do. So I do not 
see why I should not walk right over and secure the 
place before some one else gets it." 

She rose from her seat, and the mother turned n 
appealing face towards her. 

"Barbara! you shall do no such crazy thing. At 
least, you shall not with my consent. It is madness 
for you to throw yourself away! To think of my 
daughter becoming a 'hired girl !' Barbara, it is cruel 
of you even to suggest it. It is a part of your college 
foolishness. You have been jesting with me." 

No, mother, dear I have not." Barbara walked 
over to where her mother had been sitting, and kneeled 
down by her, putting her hands in her mother's hands, 
and looking affectionately up to her. 

"No, mother, I am not jesting. I am very much in 
earnest. Look at me ! Barbara Clark. Age, twenty- 
one, Graduate. Mt. Holyoke. Member of church and 



Christian Endeavor society. Plenty of good health. 
No money. Educated for a teacher. No influence with 
the powers that be to secure a position. At home, de- 
pendent on and a burden to—" here Mrs. Clark put a 
hand on the speaker's mouth and Barbara gently re- 
moved the hand — "a burden to a good mother who has 
no means besides a small legacy, daily growing small- 
er, and the diminutive interest on an insurance fund 
that is badly invested in Western land. There's my 
biography up to date. Do you wonder that I want to 
be doing something to be making some money, even 
if it is only a little, to be a breadwinner, even if — " 

"But to be a 'hired girl,' Barbara! Do you realize 
what it means? Why, it means social loss, it means 
dropping out of the circle of good society, it means 
daily drudgery of the hardest kind, it means 
going to the bottom of the ladder and always staying 
there ! And you, Barbara, of all girls, fitted to teach, 
an exceptionally good student, bright and capable. O, 
how does it happen that girls who are your inferiors 
have secured good positions and you have not suc- 

" 'Pulls,' " said Barbara briefly. 

Mrs. Clark looked troubled. "Is that college 



"No, mother. Political. I mean that the other 
girls have had influence. If father were alive—" 

"Ah, Barbara, if your father were living, there 
would be no talk of your going to work in a kitchen. 
And you shall not go, either. It is the height of ab- 
surdity to think of it." 

"But, mother," Barbara began after a moment's 
silence, do yon realize the facts, the plain, homely 
facts of our existence ? Every day you are drawing on 
Uncle Will's legacy, and next month's rent and gro- 
cery bill will eat a large hole in it. I have been a whole 
year at home, living in idleness, and eating my bread 
in bitterness because I could see the end coming. 
There is no one who is in any way bound to help us. 
Why should I let a false pride keep me from doing 
honest labor of the hand? And there is more to it 
than you imagine, mother dear. It takes more than 
a low order of intellect to manage the affairs of a fami- 
ly as a housekeeper, doesn't it?" 

Mrs. Clark did not answer, and Barbara went on. 
"You know, mother, I made a special study in college 
of social economies'. The application of those princi- 
ples to a real, live problem had great fascination for 
me. Now, the hired-girl problem in this country is 
a real, live, social and economic problem. Why shall 



I not be able to do as much real service to societj 
and the home Ufe of America by entering service as 
a hired girl and studying it from the inside, as if 1 
went into a schoolroom like other schoolma'ams, tc 
teach ? I love adventure. Why not try this ? No one 
knows how much I might be able to do for humanity 
socially as a hired girl !" 

Mrs. Clark looked at her daughter again with that 
questioning look of doubt which she often felt when 
Barbara spoke in a certain way. It was not the girl's 
habit to treat any subject flippantly. She was talking 
with great seriousness now, and yet there were ideas 
in what she said that her mother could not in the least 

"But even from a money point of view, mother, 
such a positi*-" as this is not to be despised. If my 
services are - factory, I can -t $4.75 or even $5 a 
week, and my board and lodging and washing and 
other incidentals thrown in. Suppose I had a position 
as a stenographer in one of the offices down-town. 
I could not possibly command over thirty dollars a 
month. Out of that take my board, lodging, washing, 
clothes, etc. And I could not possibly save out of it 
over ten dollar., a month. Whereas, working out at 
service, I could save twice that much in actual wages. 



If I go into BonJman's store, for instance, as a sales- 
rlerk, I cannot get over five dollars a week, out of 
which I must board, lodge, and dress myself. Mother, 
I have thought it all out, and I feel that I must go in 
answer to this advertisement. I don't mind the social 
stigma. I do mind the bitterness of living in idleness 
at home. Let me do something useful if it is only for 
a little while. I am sure a servant* can be useful." 

"It is a dreadful thought to me, Barbara," said 
Mrs. Clark with a sigh. "I never dreamed that a child 
of mine wofH^ ever be a 'hired girl !" 

"Say 'servant,' mother. 'Servant is a noble word. 
Christ was a servant. Don't you remember Dr. Law's 
sermon on that word last Sunday?" 

The girl spoke lightly, not knowing herself the 
depth of the truth she stated, and yet her mother start- 
ed and shrunk back almost as if the words were sacri- 
lege. It is possible, h that the older woman 
caught some glimpse o) . .ai great Light in the social 
life of men ; for, when she spoke again, it was with a 
yielding to Barbara's wish that was new to her. 

"I don't tmderstand you, Barbara. If only the 
money that your father saved for your education had 
been more wisely invested, we might — tout it is too late 
to think of that now. It is the thought that you are 


floff.v 70 si:K\f:. 

throwing away your preparation for life on something 
beneath you that makes me opposf thi... But, if you 
do go from this other motive, that changes matters 

"Of course it docs, mother! Let mc go. I should 
not be happy to go without your consent. I will do 
this : I will go for a trial. This is probably the only 
way I can go. anyhow. But, if after a reasonable 
time I find it is impossible for me to continue, if even 
my dream of any possible service to society turns out 
to be ridiculous or foolish, I will come back and-and- 
be a burden to you again, mother, until I find out what 
I am good for in this world." 

"It is only on some such condition that I am at all 
willing to have you take this step, Barbara," said her 
mother reluctanty, as Barbara rose and stood up by 
her for a moment in silence. She suddenly stooped 
and kissed her mother, and then walked over to the 
window and looked at her watch. 

"After six. I might as well go right over there 

"They will ask you for references," the mother 
spoke up nervously, already doubting the wisdom of 
the whole affair. 

Barbara resolutely gathered up her courage. . 

TBB woRiM yBEns Lorti. 


"I have Profefsor White's letter— the Chautauqua 
summer, mother, I can take those." Barbara referred 
to a summer's experience when m company with sev- 
eral seniors from the college she had served as a head 
waiter and housekeeper at a large hotel in a State 
Chautauqua Assembly. 

"They are good as far as they go." 

"Yes, mother, and I am svre they will go far 
enough in this case. This family — " Barbara picked up 
the paper and read the advertisement again to get the 
street number correctly — ^"is in crying need of help. 
They will not drive me away without a trial, references 
or no references." 

Mrs. Clark did not reply, but looked and felt very 

It was a serious step in her daughter's life and un- 
der any circumstances it might have a most serious 
eflfect on her future. 

"This will leave me alone here, Barbara," she said 
as Barbara put on her hat. 

"I think I can arrange to come home evenings," 
said Barbara thoughtfully. "We will settle it 
all right somehow, mother," she added with a cheer- 
ful courage she did not altogether possess. For 
since her mother's consent she had begun to 



realize a little more deeply wliat she was about 
to do. 

"I hope so, dear," was the mother's answer, and 
then quite naturally she began to cry silently. 

Barbara went up to her at once, and said, "Dear 
mother, believe it is all going to be for the best. I 
must be a breadwinner. Give me your blessing as if 
I were a knight of the olden time going out to fight a 

"Bless you, dear girl," said Mrs. Clark, smiling 
through her tears, and Barbara kissed her silently, and 
then quickly walked out of the room as if afraid of 
changing her resolution. 

Barbara Clark was not an extraordinary girl in the 
least. She was a girl with a quick, bright mind, posi- 
tive in her convictions, with impulses that were gen- 
erous and sympathetic, with very little self esteem, af- 
fectionate towards her friends and ambitious to do and 
be something. It seemed very strange to her that out 
of all her class in college she was one of half a dozen 
who had not been able to secure a position even of a 
secondary character in any school. Her father's death 
had left her and her mother alone in the world except 
for a few distant relatives in the West. Influences that 
might have secured a place for her were not used ow- 



ing to a compulsory change of residence to another 
city caused by Mr. Clark's business failures. The inti- 
mate circle of close friends that had surrounded the 
Clarks during prosperity was changed for the cold 
wideness of a strange city lacking in personal friend- 
liness. And Barbara and her mother had passed sev- 
eral weeks in Crawford, practically unknown, and with 
the growing consciousness that the little legacy and 
the insurance money were being drained seriously 
without hope of replenishing from any source so far 
as Barbara was concerned. 

The girl's longing to be a breadwinner had driven 
her into many difficult places. Under some conditions 
she would have gone at once into one of the g^eat 
mercantile houses of Crawford as one of its great army 
of saleswomen. But at that time of the year every 
position was filled, except a few places that did 
not oflfer anything but starvation wages under con- 
ditions that Mrs. Clark positively would not allow 
Barbara to accept so long as there was the slightest 
hope of the girl finding an opportunity to teach. So 
for several weeks Barbara had been, as she said, not 
unkindly, eating her bread at home in bitterness, be- 
cause no one seemed to need her in the great world, 
where the struggle for existence seemed to her to be 


a struggle that made any other existence more and 
more impossible. 

It was therefore not without a positive feeling of 
relief that Barbara Clark now hurried on to No. 36 
Hamilton Street to secure the position of "hired girl" 
in a family of five, entire strangers to her; and she 
smiled a little to herself at the thought of her anxiety 
lest a number of other girls should have been before 
her and secured the place. 

"I am in a hurry to look into the jaws of my drag- 
on," she said as she turned the corner into Hamilton 
Street, "I do hope he will not swallow me down at 
one mouthful before I have had a blow at him with 
my — my — ^broomstick," she added, not caring vhether 
the metaphor were exact or not. 

She paused a moment when she reached No. 36, 
and was pleased to note that the house was not too 
large nor too small. 

"Just an average family, I hope. Well, here goes," 
she said under her breath as she rang the bell. She 
had studied Latin and Greek at Mt. Holyoke, but 
"Here goes" was all she could think of to express her 
courage at that moment. After all, "Here goes" may 
be as good a battle-cry as any other to alarm a dragon, 
especially if back of the short cry is a silent prayer for 



Strength, such as Barbara offered up at that moment. 

There was no immediate answer to her ring and 
she rang again. Then there was the patter of a child's 
step in the hall and the door was opened. 

"Is your mamma at home," Barbara asked with a 
smile. The child did not answer at once, and Bar- 
bara took the liberty of stepping into the hall, still 
smiling at the child, who continued to look at her 
gravely. If dragons are to be mei, why not with a 
smile ? 

"Will you please tell your mamma I would lil-e to 
see her ? Tell her I have come to see if she wants a — 

"A hired girl ?" asked Carl suddenly, for it was he. 

"Yes," continued Barbara, smiling; "tell her a 
hired girl wants to see her." 

"All right," said Carl, slowly. He left Barbara 
standing awkwardly in the nail and started upstairs 
to call his mother. Near the top lie met her coming 

"Another one of those girls," began Carl in a good, 
sturdy voice; but his mother said, "Hush," and in a 
tired manner ordered him to go back up-stairs and stay 
with Lewis until she came up. 

She came down and met Barbara in the hall. There 
were two chairs there and Mrs. Ward sat down sayiug, 



"Won't you take a seat ?" looking at Barbara closely 
as she did so. 

"Thank you," said Barbara quietly. "I have come 
in answer to your advertisement in the evening news." 

"Ye..," said Mrs. Ward slowly. "Are you— ^o you 
think you can do our work?" 

"I think so," replied Barbara modestly. 

"Can you take charge and go on without being 
told how to do every little thing?" Mrs. Ward asked 
somewhat sharply. She was silently but rapidly noting 
everything about Barbara's face and dress and manner. 

"Yes, ma'am, I think I can, after learning your 

"Your name?" 

"Barbara Clark. I live with my mother on Ran- 
dolph Street two blocks from here." 

"You have worked out before?" Mrs. Ward was 
beginning t^ note the quiet refinement of the girl, and 
her first thought was a suspicion of Barbara. 

"No, I have never worked out as a servant in a 
private family. I have been a waiter and cook and 
housekeeper one summer season at Lake View Chau- 
tauqua. The only references I have are from Profes- 
sor White who had charge of the Assembly that year." 

"Professor Carrol Burns White?" 


"Yes, ma'am. Of Waldeau Academy." 

"He was my son Arthur's teacher there. His ref- 
erence would be enough." Mrs. Ward spoke eagerly, 
looking at Barbara even more keenly. "But you are 
not a-a-servant girl?" 

"I am, if you decide to take me," replied Barbara 

Mrs. Ward looked at the girl thoughtfully. "I do 
not think-we-you are not of the class of servants I am 
used :o. May I ask, is it — may I ask how you come to 
be seeking this work ?" 

"Certainly," replied Bar*bara cheerfully. "I have 
tried to secure other places, and have failed. I think 
I can suit you as a servant. I — " 

Barbara hesitated. She thought if she tried to say 
anything abou* her studies m social economics, or the 
adventure of this plan as she had only vaguely 
dreamed it herself, she might not be understood. Bet- 
ar wait and ■ jt that develop naturally. So she stopped 
suddenly and sat looking at Mrs. Ward quietly. 

Mrs. Ward hesitated also. It was an unusual situ- 
ation. The girl had given enough evidence of beiig 
all right, especially if Professor White's recommenda- 
tion was a good one. At tire same time, there was 
a great risk in hiiing a person of Barbara's evident 



education and refinement. How far would she want t( 
become one of the lamily? What relations woul( 
have to be establii?hed between her and the mistress 

But Mrs. Ward was thoroughly tired out with i 
succession of disappointments in experiences witl 
girls who were incompetent, ungrateful, and dishon 
est. The suggestion to her mind of a good, hon 
est, capable woman in kitchen and house who coul( 
relieve her of the pain of daily drudgery was a sug 
gestion of such relief that she knew the moment tha 
it came to her that her decision was almost made u] 
to take Barbara even if the circumstances in the girl' 
life were strange and unusual. Barbara suddenl; 
helped her to make the decision final. 

"Of course, I am ready to be taken on trial. At thi 
end of a week or a month if you are not satisfied, 
shall expect you to say so, and that will end it." 

"How much do you expect a week? " Mrs. Wan 
asked slowly. 

Barbara colored. She had never been asked th 
question before. 

"I don't know. Perhaps you cannot tell until yoi 
find out how much I am worth to you." 

"Shall we say four dollars to begin with? W 
have paid more than that — but — " 




"I will begin on that," replied Barbara quietly. 
"Now, of course, if I come, you will let me know ex- 
actly what my duties are, so that there may be no mis- 
takes on my part." 

Barbara had a good deal of shrewd business sense 
inherited from her father. 

"Of course," replied Mrs. Ward almost sharply. 

"About my staying in the house — " began Bar- 
bara. "I would much prefer to go home at night, to | 
be with my mother." 

"I don't think that can be managed." Mrs Ward I 
spoke with some irritation. "I shall need you in the| 
evening very often." 

"We can arrange that after I come." Barbara spoke | 
gently again. "That is, if I am to come." 

"Yes,— yes— " Mrs. Ward looked at Barbara very I 
sharply, "Yes, you can come on trial, I am glad to get| 

any one." 

Barbara colored again, and the other woman saw| 


"Of course, I did not mean— I mean I am just 
about discouraged over my housekeeping, and I ar 
nearly down sick over it." 

"I am very sorry," replied Barbara gravely. MrsJ 
Ward looked at her doubtfully. It was one woman'i 


sympathy for another spoken in four short words, but 
the older woman had had her faith in servants so rude- 
ly broken so many times that she could not at once 
accept the sympathy as real. She kept coldly silent as 
Barbara rose. 

"Shall I come in the morning?" she asked. 

"Yes, say nine o'clock." 

"I will bring Professor White's letters then." 

"Mamma," cried Carl, at that moment appearing 
at the head of the stairs. "Lewis wants to know if 
that hired girl is going to — " 

There was a muffled cry from the bedroom up- 
stairs as Carl suddenly disappeared, dragged back in- 
to the room by tlie older brother. Barbara smiled, 
and said, "Good night," and went out saying to her- 
self as .she went down the steps : "After all, the drag- 
on was not so bad as I feared. I feel rather sorry for 
the dragon-keeper. Mrs. Ward herself," on whose 
character and probable behavior, together with that of 
her family, Bar a gravely dwelt as she walked home. 
She grew quite animated as she told her moth- 
er the story of her adventures so far. The matter of 
staying with her mother evenings was a subject of 
earnest discussion. Both agreed that it must be man- 
aged if possible. Barbara went over the interview and 


gave her mother the best possible picture of Mrs. 


"I am sure we shall get on very well. She is a 
tired-out woman, irritable because of her nerves. But 
I am sure she is a good woman, when she is well," 
Barbara concluded innocently. "The children will 
bother me, I have no doubt. But I know I can get 
on. I saw only one child. He has a roguish face, but 
not bad at all. O, the dragon is not what he's painted, 

"Not yet," said Mrs. Clark in prophecy. 

"No, not yet," answered Barbara cheerfully. She 
felt almost light-hearted to think she had a position 
even if it was only that of a servant. 

Yet she had herself said many times during: her 
college course in the study of s .-ial economics that 
service was a noble thing. And, as she went up to 
her room that night after a long and tender confer- 1 
ence with her mother, in which the two had grown I 
nearer together than ever before, she seemed to call 
to mind the many passages of the New Testament 
which speak of Jesus not only as a household servant 
but even as a "bond-servant." And it came to her| 
with heaven born courage that li the Son of God be- 
came "full grown" through his sufferings endured ial 

» Bom,' TO Sb'RVS. 

ministering: to others, why might it not be the way in 
which she and all other of God's children should de- 
velop their real lives and grow into power as kings and 
queens in the Kingdom ? It is doubtful if ever before 
that evening iiarbara had caught a real glimpse of the 
meaning of service. She did catch son.ething of it 
now. She opened her New Testament, and it was not 
by chance that she turned to the passage in Luke, 
twenty-second chapter. 

"And there arose also a contention among them 
which of them is accounted to be the greatest. And 
he said unto them. The kings of the Gemiles have 
lordship over them ; and they that have authority over 
them are called Benefactors. But ye shall not be so ; 
i but he that is the greater among you. let him become 
! as the younger, and he that is chief as he that doth 

< serve. For which is greater, he that sitteth at meat 
I or he that serveth ? Is not he that sitteth at meat ? But 
« I am in the midst of you as he that serveth. But ye arc 
1 the; . jch have continued with me in my temptations. 

And I appoint unto you a kingdom even as my Father 
' appointed unto me, that ye may eat and drink at my 
5 table in my kingdom." (Luke 22 : 24-29). 

< Then she kneeled and prayed. 

E "Dear Lord, make me fit to serve, use me to the 



glory of thy kingdom in the new life before me. Make 
me worthy to be a servant, to be like my Master. 

So Barbara Cbric began her new experience, 
which profoundly affected not only her own life for 
all 'me to come, but the lives of very many other 
souls in the world. And that night she slept the sleep 
which belongs to all the children of the kingdom, 
whose earthly peace is as the peace of God. 


IT 18 aWEET TO TOtL. j 

T was four weeks after Barbara Clark ha( 
been at work as . 'hired jjirl" in the Wan 
family. She was sitting in her little roon 
at the back of the house, writing a letter to one o 
her classmates in Mt. Holyoke. She wrote slowly 
with many grave pauses and with an anxious look oi 
her face. 

"The fact is. Jessie," the letter went on after sev- 
eral pages describing a part of the four weeks' ex- 
perience, "I have come to the conclusion that I air 
not bom to be a reformer. It was all very well wher 
we studied social economics to have our heroic ideals 
about putting certain theories into practice, but it is 
quite another thing to do it. I thought when I cam* 
here that I might do some great things ; but there ar« 
no great things about it, just nothing but drudgery, 
and thankless drudgery at that. And yet Mrs. Ward- 
but I must not say any more about her. I have stayed 
out my month as I agreed to do, and to-morrow I 
am going to let her know that I cannot stay any long- 
er. I think I shall try a place in Bondman's after all. 




It seems like a poor sort of position, after all the 
dreams we had at Mt. Holyoke ; but anything is bet- 
ter than what I have been doing. I would not have 
mother know this, and I have not said as much to her 
yet. Poor mother! She must be disappointed in me. 
I am in myself. I am glad you are so well suited with 
your school. There is a good deal of the blues in 
this letter ; and, to tell the truth, it is just as I feel. 'A 
Hired Girl for Four Weeks'! How would it read as 
title to a magazine article ? I might get a few dollars for 
my experiences if I chose to exploit them. Instead of 
that. I have given them to you gratis. Shed a tear for 
me. Jessie, over the grave of my little, useless experi- 
ment in practical economics. 

Your classmate, BARBARA CLARK. 

Barbara wearily folded the letter, put it in the en- 
velope, directed it, stamped it ; and then, being hard- 
ly more than a girl, and a very tired girl, and at the 
moment one disappointed with herself and all the 
world, she laid her head down on the little table a^' 
cried hard. To tell the truth, it was not the first time 
that the little table in the little room at the back of the 
house had seen Barbara's tears since she had come to 
work at Mrs. Richard Ward's as a "hired girl." 

So this was the end of all her heroic enthusiasm 



for service. It had all turned out in disappointment. 
To begin with, the weather had been intensely hot all 
the time. The work was harder in many ways than Bar- 
bara had anticipated. Her mother had not been well 
One week Mrs. Ward had gone to bed with a suc- 
cession of nervous headaches. And so on with cease- 
less recurrence of the drudgery that grew more and 
more tiresome. At the end of the month Barbara had 
summed up everything and resolutely concluded to 

She had not yet gathered courage to tell Mrs. 
Ward. The woman had been very kind to her in 
many ways. But she was not \\ ell, and there were days 
when things had occurred that almost sickened Bar- 
bara when she recalled them. When she went 
down-stairs the next morning after writing the letter 
to her former classmate, Barbara had fully made up 
her mind, not only to give notice of her intention to 
leave, but to give Mrs. Ward .ill her reasons why she- 
could not work as a "hired girl" any longer. 

About ten o'clock in the forenoon Mrs. Ward came 
into the kitchen for something ; and Barbara, with a 
feeling that was almost fear, spoke to her as she was 
turning to go back into the dining-room. 

"I ought to tell you, Mrs. Ward, that I have decid- 




ed to leave you. My month is up to-day, and I — " 
Mrs. Ward looked at her in amazement. 
"What ! You are going to leave ? Why, we are 
more than satisfied with you I" 

"But I am not with you or the place I" replied Bar- 
bara so spiritedly that it was the nearest to an exhibi- 
tion of anger that Mrs. Ward had ever seen in her, 
during the whole month. 

Mrs. Ward sunk down in a chair, and a look of 
despair came over her face as she looked at Bar- 
bara. Barbara with a white face and trembling hands 
went on with her work at the table. She was prepar- 
ing some dish for baking. 

"Why—what— haven't we been kind to you? 
Haven't the wages— Mr. Ward was saying to me this 
morning that we ought to give you more. I am sure," 
Mrs. Ward continued eagerly, noting Barbara's set 
expression, "I am sure we would be glad to make it 
four and a half a week, or possibly five." 

"It's not that," answered Barbara in a low voice. 
She took up the dish and put it in the oven, and then 
after a moment of hesitation she sat down and looked 
at Mrs. Ward very gravely. 

"What is it,, then ?" Mrs. Ward asked hopelessly. 

"Do you want me to tell you all the reasons I 



have for leaving?" Barbara asked the question witt 
a touch of the feeUng she had already shown. 

"Have you made out a list?" Mrs. Ward asket 
carelessly. It was that characteristic of the womar 
that had oftenest tried Barbara. 

"Yes, I have," replied Barbara; and she added 
with a different tone, as if she had suddenly put i 
check on her temper: "Mrs. Ward. I don't want t( 
leave you without giving you good reasons. Tha 
would not be fair, either to you or to me." "^ 

"I ought to know," replied Mrs. Ward slowly. Sh^ 
still looked at Barbara sharply, and Barbara could no 
tell exactly what the woman was really thinking. 

"Then, in the first place," began Barbara, "m 
room is the hottest room in the house. It is rigli 
over the kitchen, it has no good ventilation, and i 
is not attractive in any way as a room at the close c 
a hard day's work." 

"It is the room my girls have always had." Mr 
Ward spoke quickly and angrily. 

"Maybe that is one reason you have had so many, 
said Barbara grimly. The memory of the hot nighi 
spent in the little back room framed Barbara's ai 

•Mrs. Ward started to her feet. "This is impert 



nence," she said, while her cheeks grew red with an- 

"It is the truth ! You asked me to give my reasons 
for leaving. That is one of them," replied Barbara 
calmly. "It is true of a good many other houses in 
^ ird, too. The smallest, least attractive, poorest 
r*. . the house is considered good enough for the 
girl. I know it isn't tr e of a great many houses, that 
furnish as comfortable a room for the servant as for 
any other member of the family. But it is true of this 
house. I am not blaming you for it, but whoever 
made the house for the express purpose of planning 
to give the hired girl of the house that particular 
room, which in this case happens to be the hottest, 
most uncomfortable room in the building." 

Mrs. Ward sat down, and again looked at Barbara 
keenly. Her anger vanished suddenly, and she said 
with a faint smile: "I don't know but you are right 
about that. Will you go on?" 

"In the second place." Barbara went on slowly, "I 
have not had any regular hours of work. Four nights 
this week I worked until ten o'clocl '. 'iree nights 
last week I sat up until eleven with the children while 
you and Mr. Ward went to entertainments or were 
out to dinner." 



"But what shall we do?"' Mrs. Ward suddenly cried 
out despairingly. "Some one stay with the chil- 
dren. And Mr. Ward and I have social duties w< 
cannot neglect. 1 am sure u e go out very little com- 
pared with other people." 

"I can't answer your questions," Barbara replied 
"But I know one reason why I feel like leaving is be 
cause I never know whether my work is going to en( 
at eight or nine or ten or eleven o'clock. There are n 
regular hours of labor in a hired girl's life, in thi 


"Neither are there any regular hours of labor in 
mother's life in a home," said Mrs. Ward quietly. "] 
your burden harder than mine? Or is it any hard< 
than your own will be if you ever have a home ar 
children as I have?" 

The sudden question smote Darbara as a new on 
and in a moment she felt consc'ous of an unthought 
problem in the social economics of housekeepin 
She had not thought it all out, as she had told h 
mother. If the home life was never to be free frc 
the necessary drudgery of life, why should she coi 
plain if in 'he course of service in a family exact hoi 
and limits of service could not very well be det( 
mined? She was somewhat troubled in her mind 



have the question thrust upon her just now. She was 
not prepared for it. 

"In any case," she finally said reluctantly, "the 
hours are so long and so uncertain that — " 

"But you have Thursday afternoon and .learly 
all of Sunday. You have more real leisure than I 

"But you would not be willing to change places 
with me?" Barbara asked, looking at Mrs. Ward 

"It is not a question of changing places. I sim- 
ply want you to see that in the matter of time you arc 
not abused. But go on with the other reasons." And 
Mrs. Ward folded her hands in her lap with a re- 
signed air that made Barbara wince a little, for what 
she was going to say next would in all probability 
anger her. 

"Another reason why I have decided to leave is 
the Sunday work. During the four Sundays I have 
beei' here you have invited in several friends to Sun- 
day dinner. This makes Sunday morning my hardest 

"It has happened so this last month, that is true," 
Mrs. Ward confessed reluctantly; "but it has been 
rather unusual. In three instances I remember tho 



gentlemen invited were particular business friends of 
Mr. Ward, and he was anxious to please them, and 
invited them home with him from^ church rather than 
send them to a hotel. But such social courtesies are 
a part of a man's home life. What shall he do ? Never 
invite a friend home to dinner for fear of giving the 
girl a little extra trouble?" 

"I don't mind it during the week," Barbara re- 
plied thoughtfully, "'but it does not seem to me to be 
just the thing on Sunday. A good many families 
make it a rule not to have extra Sunday dinners. Do 
you think it is quite fair?" 

"We haven't time to discuss it. Go on," Mrs. Ware 

answered, not sharply, as Barbara thought she might 

There were traces of tears in the older woman's eyei 

that disarmed Barbara at once. The excitement of he: 

nervous tension was beginning to subside, and the at 

tempt to narrate her grievances in their order was help 

ing her to see them in their just light. Besides, Bar 

bara had received some new ideas since she sat dow 

to give her reasons for leaving. The next time sh 

spoke it was with a feeling of doubt as to her positioi 

"There is another thing that I have felt a goo 

deal, Mrs. Ward. You have asked me to give reason 

You will not think me rude if I go on?" 


"I asked you to go on, "Mrs. Ward replied, smil- 
ing feebly. • 

"Well, during the four weeks I have been in the 
family you have never invited me to come into the 
family worship, and you have never asked me to go to 
church with you, although I told you when I came 
that I was a member of a Christian Endeavor society 
in Fairview before we moved to Crawford. I don't 
mind so much about being left out of the church serv- 
ices, but I cannot get over the feeling that as long as I 
am a hired servant I have no place, so far as my re- 
ligious life is concerned, in the family where I serve." 

Contrary to Barbara's expectation, Mrs. Ward did 
not reply at once ; and, when she did, her voice was 
not angry. It was, rather, a sorrowful statement that 
gave Barbara reason to ask herself still other ques- 

"There are some places in a family that are sacred 
to itself. Mr. Ward has always said that he thought 
the hour of family devotions was one of the occasions 
when a family had a right to be all by itself. Of course, 
if friends or strangers happen to be present in the 
home, they are invited into this inner circle, but not 
as a right, only as a privilege. We have had so many 
girls in the house who for one reason and another 



would not come into worship, even if asked, that for 
several years we have not asked them. But the main 
reason is Mr. Ward's. Is there to be no specially 
consecrated hour for the family in its religious lifer 
Is it selfish to wish for one spot in the busy day sacred 
to the home circle alone ?" 

Barbara was silent. "I have not wished to intrude 
into your family life. I only felt hungry at times tc 
be recognized as a religious being with the rest of you 
Would my occasional presence have really destroyed 
the sacred nature of your family circle ?" 

"O, I don't know that it would," sighed Mrs. Ward 
"I have only given you Mr. Ward's reason. He feeli 
quite strongly about it. As to the church. Do yoi 
think I ought ^o invite my servant to go to church witl 

"I would if you were working for me," replied Bar 
bara boldly, for she was on sure ground now, to he; 
own mind. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I know I would," Barbara replied, with convictior 

Mrs. Ward did not answer, but sat looking at Bar 
bara thoughtfully. Barbara rose and looked into th 
oven, changed a damper, and then went over to th 
table and stood leaning against it. 



"Your other reasons for leaving?" Mrs. Ward 
suddenly asked. As she asked iv, Carl came into the 
kitchen and went up to Barbara. 

"I want a pie. Make me a pie, Barbara, won't 
you?" he asked, climbing up into a chair at the end of 
the table and rubbing his hands in the flour still on 
the kneading-board. 

Barbara smiled at him for they were good friends, 
and sht had grown very fond of the child. 

"Yes, if your mother thinks best and you will sit 
down there like a good boy and wait a little." Carl at 
once sat down, only begging that he might have the 
dish that Barbara had used to mix eggs and sugar in. 

"I have told nearly all the reasons, I think," Bar- 
bara answered slowly and she turned toward Mrs. 
Ward. "Of course, there is always the reason of the 
social loss. I don't know any of the young women 
in Crawford ; but, if I did, I do not think that any of 
those who have money or move in social circles would 
speak to me or recognize me for myself if ihey ever 
knew I was a servant." 

Mrs. Ward did not answer. Barb.' a silently con- 
fronted her for a moment, and it was very still in the 
kitchen except for the beating of Carl's spoon on the 
inside of the cake-dish. 


"And then, of course I see no opportunity ever 
be anything but a hired girl. How long would y( 
want me to work for you. Mrs. Ward, as I have be* 
doing for the last four weeks ?" 

"Indefinitely I suppose." answered Mrs. VVa 

"Yes, you see how it is. If I should be willing 
stay on with you. I might stay till T was an old bix.,uw 
down woman, always washing dirty dishes, alwa 
messing in a kitchen, always being looked down up< 
• as an inferior, always being only a part of the m 
chine, my personality ignored and my developme 
dwarfed, never receiving any more wages than wher 
began, or, at the most, only a little more, always in 
dependent, servile position. Once a hired girl, alwa 
one so long as you chose to have me and I consent 
to stay. Is that a cheerful prospect for a girl to cc 
sider as final?" 

Mrs. "ard did not answer. Barbara had spok 
out all that the four weeks had been piling up in I 
mind. Once spoken, it relieved her ; but she was t re 
bled over the thought that, even if all she said w( 
exactly true, there was still somewhere in the ei 
nomic world a factor of service she had not fully r 
fairly measured. She could not escape the self-accu 



y ever to 
ould you 
ave been 

■s. Ward 

vilUnfif to 

. always 
>wn upon 
the ma- 
,n when I 
tvays in a 
rl, always 
rl to con- 

d spoken 
up in her 
was trou- 
said were 
the eco- 
fully nor 

tion ; "But ministry m still ministry. If this family real- 
ly needs such work as I have been doing to help it 
work out its destiny in the world, why is not my serv- 
ice for it as truly divine as if ministered in other ways 
that the world so often thinks are more noble?" 

Mrs. Ward still sat with folded hands and a Strang*' 
look, and Barbara turned from her and began rolling 
out a small piece of pie-crust for Carl. When she had 
finished it and had put it in ft platter, as she was turn- 
ing with it toward the stove, she was amazed to see 
Mrs. Ward standing in front of her. She had risen 
suddenly, and had come over near Barbara. 

"What you have said is too true, a great deal of it, 
most of it ; and yet. Barbara, if you only knew how 
much I need just such help as yours in my home, you 
would not leave me. Isn't there seme way we can 
work it out together? I have not been to you what 
one woman ought to be to another. I have teen nerv- 
ous and faultfinding and — and — ^you have not sai^ 
anything about that, I know, but, if you will stay, Bar- 
bara, we will try to study the thing out better, we will 
help one another. That is not exactly what I mean, 
but we will understand each other better after this 
talk, and perhaps we can be more just, and study how 
to better matters." 


Barbara stood during this unexpected appe 

trembling with a conflicting set of emotions. In t\ 

midst of all she could feel a return of something 

the old feeling of heroism in service that had promptc 

her to answer the advertisement in the first place, ai 

her pulses leaped up again at the thought of help fro 

this woman to solve the servant (juestion and wo 

with her toward a common end. What could she ( 

alone? Only four weeks of trial, and she had despair 

of service. Already in the swift reaction from her c 

spair. Mrs. Ward's words produced a great revulsi 

in her feelings. Surely all things were possible if be 

the woman of the house and the servant studied t 

question together. And her grievances ! They w< 

there still, and still real. But they were not with( 

compensation if what Mrs. Ward said was going 

mean a new start all around. 

Still, as she faced Mrs. Ward with a troubled hei 
she hesitated, going over again the trials of the I 
weeks, the hot, insufficient little room, the long ; 
irregular hours, the separation from people, even fr 
the very people in the house where she was servi 
the daily drudgery, the hopelessness of any future 
all came up again to dash an enthusiasm that had 
parently been killed out of her at the first attemp 


I appeal 
, In the 
ithing of 
ilace, and 
lelp from 
md work 
id she du 
n her de- 
)le if both 
udicJ the 
["hey were 
)t without 
going to 

bled heart, 
>f the four 

long and 
even from 
IS serving. 

future — ii 
lat had ap- 
attempt to 

turn practical things into heroic things. And let u» say 
for Barbara what was a very true part of her true self ; 
the had so great a horror of doinp anything from im- 
pulse alone that a part of her hesitation now arose not 
from her doubts concerning -Mrs. Ward's sincerity, but 
from her own fear of changing her mind, of seeming 
to act from pity for Mrs. Ward rather than from ;» 
genuine conviction that .she h.nd not been heroic 
enough to test her service lone: enough to prove some- 
thing besides a few grievances. She was smitten even 
while Mrs. Ward was speaking, to think that she had 
not endured all the hardships of service to the limit 

of service. 

"Of course, I don't know how we are going to ar- 
range all the things that are wrong, but I have gone 
over all the ground you have emphasized this morning 
more times than perhaps you imagine," Mrs. Ward 
continued, and Barbara perhaps for the first time, gave 
Mrs. Ward credit for many things she had hitherto 
denied her. "My wretched health, and cares and 
trouble with servants who have had no ambitions and 
no abilities such as you have, I think have all helped to 
make me seem indifferent and thoughtless. But I 
need you, Barbara. Really, I cannot bear the thought 
of being without help. You cannot realize what these 



last four weeks have meant to me in the burden lifte( 
You do not understand how capable you are in mar 
agement. I ought to have let you know it. I am sut 
I have felt it deeper every day." 

"You are flattering me now," said Barbara, smilin 
a little. 

"No, only the truth as it ought to have been tol 
you. My sickness, the children, my cares, Mr. Ward' 
business complications, some of which have been seri 
ous the last ten days, have all conspired to make m 
careless of you ; but even my carelessness has been 
sign of my confidence in you. Don't leave us nov 
Barbara. We need you more than you can realize." 

What! Barbara Clark! Here has been troubl 
in this home, and trouble of a serious nature, and yo 
have lived in your own troubles, absorbing all though 
about yourself. She began to be ashamed. She turne 
towards Mrs. Ward. 

"I don't want to seem to act on just my feeling 
alone. Let me go home to-night and think it out." 

Mrs. Ward looked at her wistfully, and again teai 
came into the older woman's eyes. 

"I am asking a great deal of you. Maybe I ai 
promising a good deal for myself, too, if you decide t 
go on with us." 


"You mean?" Barbara began, and then st_^ped. 

"I mean that, if you will keep on as you have be- 
gun, I am willing to help make your place different in 
many ways from what it has been. I don't know all 
that this may mean to you. It is not an ordinary case, 
as you are not an ordinary servant girl. There is an- 
other thing I ought to say. If you remain with us, it 
ought to 'be a great source of satisfaction to you that 
the children think so much of you. Do you realize 
how much it may mean to a mother to know they are 
being helped in every way while with her servant? 
That is another great reason I don't want you to go, 

"Thank you, Mrs. Ward," Barbara answered, and 
the tears came into her eyes for the first time. Praise 
is sweet. Why don't we all give more of it where we 
know it will help, not hurt ? 

"We cannot spare you out of the home. We have 
not treated you right, but " 

"Don't say anything about that, Mrs. Ward," Bar- 
bara interrupted, a feeling of remorse growing' in her 
at the thought of her "grievances." Some of them 
were beginning to seem small in comparison with her 
privileges. She was actually needed in this home. 
3he was a real influence in it if what Mrs. Ward had 



just said about the children was true. Surely tl 
was more in the position than physical drudg 
Could even a school-teacher expect to be more use 
A host of new questions rose in her mind. 

"Let me go home to-night, Mrs. Ward, and li 
return in the morning and give you tpy answer. ' 
any case, I will not leave, of course, until you have 
cured some one else." 

"Very well, we will leave the matter that wi 
Mrs. Ward answered, and she went out of the kite 
as Carl began to clamor for his pie and Barbara tur 
to attend to him. 

But Barbara was strongly moved by this intervi 
It had begun with her heart full of discouragement 
rebellion. It had ended with a feeling of doubt c 
cerning her resolution to give up her position, wit 
renewal of her former enthusiasm. There were po 
bilities in the situation that she had not considei 
And so, with all these new ideas crowding into 
thoughts, she finished her work early that evening ; 
went home. 


Her mother met her with a happy smile, and: 
stantly put into her hand a letter that had come in: 
afternoon mail. It had printed on it the address < 
teachers' agency. 


"Another polite note saying there are no vacancies 
at present, etc. Is that it, mothe. ?" 

"I opened it, Barbara. You remember you told 
me to if anything came from this agency, and I was 
going to send over to the Wards' for you this evening 
if you had not come," Mrs. Clark said as Barbara took 
out the letter and began to reaS. 

It was an oflfer from the principal of an academy in 
a neighboring State, of a fairly good position as teach- 
er in the department of French and German, the two 
languages Barbara had made the most of at Mt. Holy- 

"It's a good offer, Barbara. Just the position you 
can fill, isn't it?" 

"Yes, mother." Barbara answered slowly. But 
she dropped the letter into her lap and sat thought- 
fully quiet. 

"What are you thinking of? Barbara, you don't 
mean to refuse, after all this waiting?" 

Then Barbara told her mother all about the morn- 
ing's talk wit'h Mrs. Ward. 

"I am in honor bound to stay with her, anyway, 
until she finds some one else. I promised. If I ac- 
cept this offer, I must go at once, as the place requires 
an immediate answer in person. That would leave 



Mrs. Ward without any one just at a time when she is 
most in need of some one." 

"She will let you off for such an unexpected offer 
as this, Barbara," Mrs. Clark spoke with eagerness. 
"You do not mean to lose it, to lose your chances of 
getting something better just for " 

"Mother, you must not tempt me," Barbara replied 
with a faint smile. And Mrs. Clark with a sigh made 
no further appeal. She knew past experience 
that Barbara would not change her mind in such a 


After a long silence Barbara said: "Mother, I 
may decide to remain with Mrs. Ward for good. This 
morning I thought it was all a mistake and that I 
could not do anything. But since this talk with her 
I see some hopes of working out the problem. I 
really begin to think I may be of some use in that 


"But you have not been happy there, dear. And I 
am sure the work is too hard for you. You are tired 


"It is the heat, mother. I shall be all right when 

the cool weather comes this falh" 

Mrs. Clark shook her head doubtfully ; and, when 
Barbara went up to her room at last, her mother broke 




down and had a cry over the situation. Barbara had 
banded her the four weeks' savings, aniouming to 
fourteen dollars. It was more than she could have 
saved on thirty-five dollars a month as a teacher, if she 
had been obliged to pay for her own board and lodg- 
ings and incidentals. But, in spite of all. Mrs. Clark 
could not understand <he girl's evident purpose to go 
back to Mrs. Ward's permanently. 

Up in her room that night Barbara turned to her 
New Testament with a purpose which had been formed 
since her talk in the morning. It had come to her 
mind, while Mrs. Ward was saying something about 
the need which she had of her, that there were a great 
many passages in the New Testament written espe- 
cially for servants. And the idea occurred to her to 
search for all of them and make a study of them with 
special reference to her own case at what was now a 
crisis for her future. She would take one passage 
every week and dwell on it while at her work— if 
—she should decide to go back to the Wards' indefi- 

She did not know where to look for all the passages 
referring to the slaves or bond-servants common to 
Christ's and Paul's times, but she was familiar with 
the beautiful verses in the second chapter of Philip- 



plans, and she turned to them reading from her R< 
vised Lihle. 

"Have this mind in you, which was also in Chrii 
Jesus : who. being in the form of God, counted it n( 
a prize to be on an equality with God. but emptie 
himself, taking the form of a servant (the Greek woi 
is bond-servant), being made in the likeness of met 
and being made in fashion as man, he humbled hir 
self, becoming obedient even unto death,yea, the deal 
of the cross, 

"Wherefore also God highly exalted him, and ga^ 
unto him the name which is above every name ; th 
in the name of Jesus every knee should bow. of thinj 
in heaven and things on earth and things under t 
earth and that every tongue should confess that Jes 
Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father." (PI: 


"The Son of God was a bond-servant." Barbara i 

peated the statement softly before she prayed. A 

never before had she prayed more earnestly for w 

dom and humility and courage. Never had the g 

felt a deeper longing to be of use in the world wh( 

she was most needed. "Help me. Son of God," v 

the burden of her prayer, "to decide now what I ouj 

to do. Lead me in the right way." 



In the morning she went down, and, meeting her 
mother, kissed her affectionately. Mrs. Clark looked 
at her anxiously. 

"Yes, mother," Barbara answered gently, "I have 
decided to go back for good. I believe I can be of 
more use there than in a schoolroom. The dragon 
is very fierce and very tough, mother; and I have 
been scared and run away ; but I am going back, and 
I want your blessing again. There are going to be 
some interesting fights with the dragon ♦his time, 
mother, I am s -e. For, if Mrs. Ward will do what 
she hinted at, the dragon will have two women after 
him instead of one. We will make it lively for him." 

So Barbara walked over to the Wards', and, going 
right up to her room, put on her kitchen dress (her 
armor she called it), came down, and- at the kitchen 
door met Mrs. Ward. 

"I have come to stay," she said with a smile. 

Mrs. Ward made a step towards her and Barbara 
thought at first the woman was going to kiss her. 
They both changed color, and then Barbara gravely 

"I hope we may he able to do something together, 
as 3'ou suggested." 

"I am ready to do something." Mrs. Ward spoke 



earnestly. "We cannot reform every thing at one 
of course." 

"Ourselves, for example," said Barbara quickly. 

"To be sure," Mrs. Ward replied. Then si 
added with a show of emotion that had affected Ba 
bara the day before : "I cannot tell you what a gre 
relief it is to me to have you here. It means more 
me than I can tell you just now." 

"I am glad of it," Barbara answered simply, ai 
at once began the day's work. 

The next day was Saturday. In the afternoon, 
Barbara was finishing the dinner dishes, Mrs. Wa 
came in. 

"W^ill you go to church with me to-morrow?" s 
asked abruptly. 

Barbara started, and then, recovering quickly, sa 
"Yes, if you really want me to." 

"In the morning; we can arrange to get dinr 
when we return." 

"What will this mean to you?" Barbara ask 
after a while. 

"I don't know." 

"Mr. Ward is willing?" 

"Yes, I have talked it all over with him, and he 



"I don't want to cause you needless embarrass- 
lent," Barbara began in a low voice. 

"But it may not cause any embarrassment. We 
till try it, anyway," 

"Do any other women in Crawford bring their 
servants to church with them ?" 

"Dr. Vane's wife always does. They are among 

the old families here. Very wealthy and " 

'I know Dr. Vane. He and father went to school 
[together in Fairview." 

'Is that so ? Then I will introduce you to them 

Barbara could not avoid a smile at the thought. 

[Nevertheless, she anticipated the event of going to 

[church with Mrs. Ward with a degree of interest that 

she had not felt in her work as a servant since those 

eventful four weeks in her life had beg^n. A new 

factor had come into the problem. The woman of 

[the house was going to co-operate with her. How 

[far the co-operation was going to be canity, -he 

could not foresee. Mrs. Ward's manner was both 

reassuring and at the same time uncertain, and Bar- 

ihara could not tell how far she might go if matters 

1)ecame serious for her socially. 

When Sunday morning came, Barbara joined the 


family at church time and they all started togethe 
The church bells of Crawford were ringing, and i 
Barbara's heart there was a mingling of the peace ( 
God with tumult, the peace that goes with the coi 
sciousness of human conflict over selfish human pa 



|H£ Ward pew in the Marble Square Church 
was about halfway down the aisle and in the 
body of the house. As Barbara walked 
down the aisle, she was conscious of a feeling of ex- 
citement hardly warranted by the event. As she 
passed into the pew first, leading Carl after her as the 
arrangement of seating had been planned by Mrs. 
Ward, she noticed Mrs. Ward's face. It was very 
grave, and there was again present in it that uncer- 
tain element which had set Barbara to guessing 
once or twice before how far her mistress would 
venture to co-operate with her in the matter of solving 
the questions belonging to housekeeping. 

But Barbara was a ypung woman with a good re- 
serve of common sense, and she at once dismissed all 
foolish speculations and resolutely gave her thoughts 
to the service of the hour. She was naturally and 
healthily religious and was prepared to enter into the 
worship with no other thought, except her need of 
communion and devotion and reception of truth. 

When the minister came out of his studv-room into 




uu. ^yulpit, Barbara noticed a look of surprise on 
eral faces near her. She heard the lady in the 
next to her say in a whisper to another, "Where it 
Law to-day ?" 

"He is in Carlton. This must be Morton, t 
new minister." 

"He looks very young. Do you suppose he 
preach any ?" 

Barbara did not hear the answer, but she had 
been able to avoid making a comment to herself 
the youthful appearance of the minister. But, w 
he began the service by giving out the first hymn, 
impression of extreme youthfulness disappeared, 
had a good voice and a quiet, modest, reverent mar 
that Barbara liked. His prayer helped her, A 
when he began to preach, there was a simplicity 
earnestness about his delivery that was very attract 
He did not try to say too much. The sermon 
written, but the reader had evidently tried to a\ 
being so closely confined to the pages as to lose a ( 
tain necessary sympathy with his hearers which 
use of the eye alone can secure. 

Barbara was really interested in the entire serm 
and as a whole it helped her. Her happily trained 
ligious nature had taught her to look with hor 


[upon the common habit of criticism and comparison 
irhen attending a church service. The main object 
lof going to church was to get help to be a better 
[Christian, she had often said in Httle debates over such 
[subjects while in college. If the sermon was learned 
land eloquent and interesting as well as helpful, so 
much the better. But, if it had every quality except 
helpfulness, it missed the mark. To be able to say 
after hearing a sermon, "That has helped me to be a 
better person this week," is really the same thing as 
declaring that the sermon was a good sermon. Any- 
thing that helps life is great. All sermons that give 
courage or peace or joy, or inspire to greater love to 
[God and neighbor, are great sermons. 

So Barbara was lifted up by the message of the 
morning; and, when the service was closing, during 
the hush that succeeded the benediction, as the con- 
gregation remained seated for a moment, she uttered 
a prayer of thanksgiving and a prayer of petition for 
patience and wisdom in the life she had chosen, much 
Ijlessed and comforted by the service of the morn- 

As P.arhara came out into the again. Mrs. 
Wanl was standing near the end of the pew opposite. 
She beckoned to Barbara. 



"I want to introduce Miss Clark to yoit, Mrs. i 


An elderly woman with very keen blue eyes, and 
the sharpest look out of them that Barbara had ever 
seen, spoke to her abruptly but kindly as she came 
up, Carl still clinging to her. 

"Very glad to see you. Miss Clark. You must 
come in and see us some afternoon or evening. O, I 
know who you are, just a servant; and we are rich, 
aristocratic folks and all that. My grandfather was 
a blacksmith in Connecticut. His ancestors were 
from Vanes of Arlie in Scotland. Good, honest work- 
ing people as far as I can ascertain. I want you to 
meet Miss Barnes, who is helping us at present." 

She introduced the young woman who was stand- 
ing behind her, and Barbara somewhat shyly shook 
hands with a heavy-faced girl, who, however, smiled a 
little. Barbara was astonished at Mrs. Vane, and in- 
stantly concluded that she was a character in the Mar- 
ble Square Church and in Crawford, as indeed she 


"My father and Mr. Vane were in college to- 
gether." Barbara said, as they moved down the aisle. 

"Are you sure ?" The sharp eyes seemed to look 
Barbara through. 



"Yes, ma'am. I have heard father speak often of 
Thomas Vane. Before he mentioned the fact of your 
living in Crawford." 

"Mr. Vane would be glad to see your father again. 

Ask him to call." 

"Father dl 1 last winter," Barbara answered in a 
low voice. The tragedy of that bus- ness failure and 
sudden shock which resulted in her father's death was 
too recent to be spoken of without deep feeling. 

"Dear me! It is strange Thomas never told me. 
Perhaps he did not hear of it. Is your mother liv- 

"Yes." Barbara told her the street. 
"She must come and see me after I have called. 
She is alone, you say?" And again the sharp eyes 
pierced Barbara. 

They had reached the door, and Mrs. Vane tapped 
Mrs. Ward on the shoulder. 

"Mrs. Ward, you see that Miss Clark comes to 
see me. I want a long talk with her. Don't be afraid, 
my dear. I don't want to know any more than you 
are willing to tell me. But I'm interested in you, and 
perhaps I can do something to help." 

She hurried out. leaving Barbara in some uncer- 
tainty as to what kind of help was meant. Would this 




woman of wealth and social position help her in her 
plans for solving the servant-girl problem? 

The Wards were still standing near the door, and 
Carl was pulling Barbara's dress and crying to her to 
hurry home for dinner, when the young minister came 
up and shook hands heartily with Mrs. Ward. At 
the close of the service he had come down from the 
pulpit and had gone through one of the side doors 
leading into the church vestibule. He had been talk- 
ing with some of the people out there, but the minute 
Mr. Ward appeared he came over and greeted him. 

"Very glad to sec you and hear you, Morton, I'm 
sure," Mr. Ward was saying a"= Barbara came into the 
vestibule. "Been some time since you and Arthur 
came in to see us together." 

"Yes, I've been too busy since I left the seminary, 
with the work in Carlton. How is Arthur?" 

"O, he's quite well," Mrs. Ward answered as Mor- 
ton looked at her. "We expected him home a month 
ago, but he had to give up coming at the last minute 

on account of some society doings. But " by 

this time Carl had dragged Barbara out past Mrs. 
Ward — "allow me to introduce Miss Clark, who is — " 
Barbara looked at her quietly, and she continued, 
"who is working for us at present." 



Mr. Morton bowed and shook hands with Barbara, 
saying as he did so, "I'm very glad to meet you, Miss 


And Barbara, listening and looking with sensitive- 
ness to detect a spirit either of patronizing or of in- 
diflference.could not detect either. He spoke and looked 
as any gentleman might have spoken and looked at 
any young woman who was his equal in society. 

"Won't you come home to dinner with us, Mor- 
ton?" said Mrs. Ward heartily. 

"I'm stopping at the hotel; I think I had better 
not come to-day." 

"Well, when do you go back to Carlton?" 
"To-morrow at two." 

"Well, then, corne to lunch to-morrow noon." 
"I shall be glad to, thank you," he said, and he 
bowed pleasantly to them all as he passed over to the 
other end of the vestibule to speak to some one else. 

"Mr. Morton was a senior in college when Arthur 
entered," Mrs. Ward explained to Barbara as they 
walked out of the church. "He had an opportunity to 
do Arthur a great kindness, and our boy never forgot 
it. He used to come home with him quite often dur- 
ing the last term Mr. Morton was at college before he 
entered the seminary." 





"He's a very promising young man," said '. 
Ward positively. "I like his preaching. It's se 
hie and straight." 

"And interesting, too," Mrs. Ward added, her h( 
warming to the young man who had befriended 
son. Just how much Ralph Morton had helped Art 
Ward not even the mother ever knew. But it 
during a crisis in his young life, and the 'brave, sin: 
nature of Morton had gone out to the young fellov 
his trc'ible very much like a rescue. But men do 
rear monuments to this sort of heroism. 

Barbara walked on in silence, but in her heart 
also had a feeling of gratitude for the young preac 
whose courteous greeting no less than his helpful j 
mon had given her courage. At the same time, 
was conscious of a little whisper in her mind wli 
said: "Nevertheless, Barbara Clark, in the very 
ture of the case you are not privileged to move in 
society of young men like Mr. Morton, a^ long 
you are a servant. You may be college-bred, and i 
may be as refined and as intelligent as he is; but 
could never look on you as an equal. His court 
was paid to you as a minister would be courteous 
any woman, but not as to an equal in any sense Ti 
never could expect to sit down and talk together, i 



never could anticipate the enjoyment of his company 
or-ror — expect that he would ever call to see you as — 

as he might call to see " 

Barbara colored deeply as she allowed the whisper 
to die away in uncompleted fragments of imagination. 
She was the last girl in the world to have foolish, ro- 
mantic dreams of young men. She had never had a 
lover. No one had ever made her think of any such 
I possibility. She was singularly free from any silly senti- 
ment such as girls of her age sometimes allow to spoil 
the freshness and strength of a womanly heart. But 
she was romantic in many ways ; and, bemg a woi n 
and not an angel or a statue, she had thought at times 
of some brave, helpful, strong life that might become 
a part of hers. The world-old cry of the heart for 
companionship, the hunger, God-given to men and 
women, was not unknown to Barbara within the last 
year or two when she had begun to blossom >to 
womanhood. The thought that her choice of a career 
in service had put her outside the pale of a common 
humanity's loving smote her with another pang as she 
walked along. It seemed that there were depths and 
heights to this servant-girl problem that she was con- 
stantly discovering, into which she might never de- 
scend, and out to which she might never climb. 





Carl awoke her from her thoughts by dragging at 
her dress, and saying: "Come, Barbara, let's hurry. 
I'm hungry. ■ Let's hurry now and get dinner." 

Barbara looked at Mrs. Ward. 

"Yes, go on with him if you want to. Lewis will 
be impatient. He ran on ahead before his father 
could stop him. I don't feel well enough to walk 

So Barbara hurried on with Carl and as she passed 
several groups of churchgoers she was conscious that 
she herself was the object of conversation. She could 
not hear very well, but caught fragments of sentences, 
some spoken before, some after, she had passed differ- 

ent people. 

"A freak of Mrs. Ward's " "Mrs. Vane's queer 

ideas " "Perfectly absurd to try to equalize 

up " "Girls have no rights to demand ' 

"Ought to know their places " "No way to help 

solve the trouble," etc., were remarks by the different 
members of Marble Square Church that set Barbara's '_ 
pulses beating and colored her cheek with anger. 

"You hurt me, Barbara!" exclaimed Carl as Bar-| 
bara unconsciously gripped his little hand tight. 

"O dearie, I am sorry. I didn't mean to." In ani 
instant she was calm again. What ' Barbara Clark !] 



You have not endured anything to-day ! She had not 
anticipated anything before going to church. She 
had simply made up her mind to take what came and 
abide by it. What had actually happened was not a 
sample of what might happen Sunday after Sunday. 
Probably not. But it all went with the place she had 
chosen. Perhaps it was not at all the thing for Mrs. 
Ward to do. It might not accomplish any good. But 
then, it — she stopped thinking about it and went on 
to the house to prepare the lunch. When Mrs. Ward 
came in, she found Carl satisfied with a bowl of bread 
and milk and Barbara quietly busy getting lunch for 
the rest. 

Mrs. Ward offered tcThelp with the work ; but Bar- 
bara saw that she was very tired, and insisted on her 
lying down. 

"I'll have everything ready very soon," she said 
cheerfully; and, as she went back into the kitchen, 
she was humming one of the hymns sung in the serv- 

"What do you think about to-day?" Mr. Ward 
asked in a low voice as his wife lay down on a lounge 
in the dining-rooin. 

"You mean Barbara's sitting with us?" 

"Yes. Will it help matters any?" 



"O, I don't know. I never would have done it if 
I hadn't happened to think of Mrs. Vane. She's rich 
and has an assured place in society. Her girls always 
come with her and she introduces them right and left 
to everybody." 

"Yes. Martha, but Mrs? Vane is eccentric in all hei 
ways. She is accepted because she is rich and inde 
pendent. But have you noticed that these girls tha 
come to church with her never get on any farther? N( 
one knows them in spite of her introductions. I in 
quired of young Williams one Sunday if the Barne 
girl was in the Endeavor Society of the church, aiu 
he said he believed she came three or four times am 
then stopped ; and, when I asked him the reason, ii 
said she did not feel at home, the other girls wer 
better educated or somethii . ike that." 

"That's just it. You can't .nix up different classe 
of people. If they were all like Barbara, now, an 

knew their places " 

But just then Barbara appeared, and Mrs. War 
abruptly stopped. When Barbara went out agaii 
she said, "I don't know whether her going with us t( 
day did more harm or good." 

"It did the girl good, I am sure." said Mr. War 
"O, well, I hope it did. But I'd give a good de 


to know what Mrs. Rice and Mrs. Wilspn and Mrs. 
Burns thought about it. They knew Barbara, for 
they have seen her here several times at our club com- 
mittee meetings." 

"You don't suppose they would talk about it, do 
you?" asked Mr. Ward, sarcastically. 

"They were talking about it all the way home, or 
I'm very much mistaken." 

"What an inspiring thing it would be to a minister 
if he could only hear the conversation of his congrc- 

Ijjaiion for half an hour after church service is over," 
sHid Mr. Ward half to himself and half to his wife. 

["Whatever else he got out .of it, he ought to get ma- 

Iterial for another sermon at least.' 

"For more than one," added Mrs. Ward wearily. 

I And then Biirbara called them and they sat down to 

I lunch. 

But just what Mrs. Ward's three friends did say is 

I of interest, because it is a fair sample of what other 
good people in Marble Square Church said on the 
way home, and the young preacher might possibly 
have thought that there is still a distinct place left for 
preaching in churches, if he could have heard 
what these three women had to say about Bar- 




They came out uf the church, and walked alon^ 

"It was a good sermon," Mrs. Rice began. Mrs. 
Rice was a plump, motherly-looking woman and a 
great worker in the church and clubs of Crawford. 

"Mr. Morton is a young man. He has a goo\ 
deal to learn," said Mrs. Wilson positively. 

"Dr. Law exchanges a good deal too much, I 
think," was Mrs. Burns's comment. "This is the third 
exchange since — since — last March." 

"Mrs. Vane has a convert. Did you see Mrs. 
Ward's girl in the pew with her?" Mrs. Wilson aske«l 

"Yes. Rather a neat, pretty girl, and seemed to 
know her place. Mrs. Ward told me the other day 
that she is well educated and — " 

"It is no sort of use trying to do that sort of 
thing!" Mrs. Rice interrupted, with energy. "I tried 
that plan once in Whiteville, and it did no good at 
all. Servants as a class cannot be treated that way. 
They always take advantage of it." 

"That's what I have always said," added Mrs. 
Burns. "Look at Mrs. \'ane's girls. She changes as of- 
ten as any of us, and has as much trouble. The girls 
don't want to be treated like that " 



"And, if they do, it makes no difference with their 
real position. No one will really ask them into society ; 
and, if they did, they would not know how to be- 
have," Mrs. Wilson exclaimed. 

"It does seem a pity, though," Mrs. Rice went on, 
"that girls like this one shouldn't be allowed to have 
a chance like other people. What is she with Mrs. 
Ward for if she is educated and all that?" 

"O, she has some idea of helping solve the servant- 
girl problem," Mrs. Bums replied. "At least, Mrs. 
Ward told me something of that sort. She docs not 
know all about the girl herself." 

"It's a queer way to solv * the question — to go out 
as a servant herself," said Mrs. Wilson, and the other 
two women said "That's so!" Yet all three of these 
women had been brought up on the theology of the 
orthodox teaching of the atonement. 

"Did you see Mr. Morton speaking to the Wards ? 
He was just as polite to the girl as he was to any one 
in the church." 

"Of course; why not?" Mrs. Rice asked with a su- 
perior air. "But now imagine Mr. Morton or any 
other gentleman in Crawford really considering a serv- 
ant as they consider other people, even the factory 
girls or the clerks at Bondman's." 


/lOff.V TO ftEliVF.. 

"O well, of course, there is a difference." 

"Of course," the other two women assented. But, 
after all, what constitutes the exact difference be- 
tween honest labor of the hands in a factory or a store 
and in a home? If they are both service that hu- 
manity needs for its comfort or its progress, ought 
they not both to be judged by the standard of 
service, not by the standard of place where the service 
is rendered? 

"I think 'Mrs. Ward will find out her mistake, and 
he ready to say so in a little while. If she is going 
to bring her girl to church with Tier, I don't see where 
she can stop short of taking her with her everywhere 
else; and of course society will not tolerate that," 
Mrs. Rice said after a pause. 

"Of course not. The whole thing is absurd. The 
girls must keep their places. All such eccentric 
women like Mrs. Vane do more harm than good," 
Mrs. Burns declared with decision. 

"I had given Mrs. Ward credit for more sense," 
Mrs. Wilson said gravely. "But I must turn down 
here. Good-by." 

"Good-by. t)on't forget the cOiT.mittee meeting at 
my house to-morrow," cried Mrs. Rice, and very soon 
she parted from Mrs. Wilson, reminding her. as they 

ftKRVirr. /S ROYAL. 


separated, o! the church conmuttec meeting later in 

the week. 

The next morning alter Mr. A an I had gone down 
to his business Mrs. Ward said to Barbara: "You re- 
mentber Mr. Morton is coming to lunch with us to- 
day. Would you like to sit at the table with us?" 

The color rushed into Barbara's face, and she did 
not answer at once. Then she said slowly : "No, Mrs. 
Ward. I told you when I came, if you remember, that 
I never expected to sit with the family at meal-time. 
My place as a servant is to wait on the family then." 

"Very well," replied Mrs. Ward quietly. "I sim- 
ply asked because I want you to understand that I 
am ready to help you. Of course, you are not like 
the other girls who have worked for us. I have no 
doubt you could be perfectly at your ease with Mr. 
Morton or any one else in society." Mrs. Ward 
spoke with some womanly curiosity, for Barbara had 
not yet taken her into full confidence, and there was 
much in the girl's purpose and character that Mrs. 
Ward did not know. 

"I suppose I could probably," Barbara answered 


"Of course, you shut yourself out of the society of 
people in your own rank of life by choosing to be 


RORX TO fiEUrf!. 

a servant," Mrs. Ward went on abruptly. "You know 
that as well as I do." 

"Yes," replied Barbara gravely. 

"You know well enough that if I had introduced 
you yesterday to all the people in Marble Square 
Church, probably not one of them would ever have 
invited you to come and see them or even enter into 
any part of the church life." 

"I suppose so," Barbara replied, flushing deeply. 
And then she said, "But I understand well enough 
that such conditions exist because in the majority of 
cases the girls who go out to service in Crawford 
would not care to be invited to the homes of the 
people in Marble Square Church, and would feel very 
miserable and ill at ease if they should be invited into 
any such homes." 

"That is what I have often said. The servant girls 
are in a distinct class by themselves. They are the 
least educated, the most indifferent to refining in- 
fluences, of all the laboring classes." 

"At the same time," Barbara began;, but Mrs. 
Ward was called out of the room by some demand 
of Lewis, who was still posing more or less as an 
invalid although he was able to be about; and Bar- 
bara went on with her work, conscious that the dragon 



was, if anything, bigger and fiercer in some directions 

every day. 

About noon the bell rang, and Barbara with a 
little heightening color in her face went to the door. 

Mr. Morton greeted her as she opened the door 
saying: "Happy to meet you again, Miss Clark. A 
little pleasanter and not so hot as last week." 

Barbara returned his greeting by saying, "Yes, 
sfr," and took his hat, while he walked immediately 
into the sitting-room like a familiar guest. Mrs. Ward 
heard him from up-stairs, and came down at once, 
while Barbara went into the kitchen. 

During the meal Barbara could not avoid hear- 
ing part of the conversation. She had always remem- 
bered what her mother had often said about servants 
telling everything heard in the family talk and she hact 
tried since coming to the Wards' to train herself not 
to listen to what was being said, especially at the 
table when she was called in to stand and wait at the 
beginning or during the different courses. 

But to-day in spite of herself she could not avoid 
hearing and knowing a part of the general conver- 
sation. She heard Mr. Ward good-naturedly asking 
Mr. Morton how long he expected to live in a hotel 
at Carlton. 



''Ill warrant all the young ladies in Carlton have 
given him at least a barrel of slippers already," Mr. 
Ward said, looking at his wife. 

"Will yoo give mm the highest market price for 
all the slippers I possess so far?" Mr. MKH-ton asked 
with a smile. Mr. Ward was in the wholesale boct 
and shoe business. 

"I don't know. I don't think I want to load up so 
heavily on slippers." 

"I assure you it would not ruin you," Mr. Morton 
answered lightly. 

**I think with Mrs. Ward, ithough, that you ought 
to be getting a home of your own," Mr. Ward was 
saying when Barbara came in with the dessert. 

"My sister is coming up to Carlton to keep house 
for me if I stay there next year ; I don't mind saying 
that the hotel is getting rather tiresome." 

"If you stay? Why, are you thinking of leaving?" 

"No, but I was hired for a year only." 

"Listen to the modest young preacher!" began 
Mr. Ward with a smile. "Of course, Carlton will 
want you another year. If they don't, come down to 
the Marble Square Church. There is a possibility of 
Dr. Law's leaving before Christmas. He is grow- 
ing old and his health has failed rapidly of late." 


Mr. Mortem said ticking in answer to this, and 
when Barbara came in next time they were all talking 
of the college days when Arthur and Morton were 

Barbara had eaten her own dinner and was at work 
again, clearing off the dinner dishes, so that, when 
Mr. Morton rose in the other room to go, she heard 
him exchanging farewells with the Wards and prom- 
ising to come down again before long. He went out 
into the hall, and after a pause Barbara heard him 
say: "I don't find my hat. Possibly Miss Clark hung 
it up somewhere." 

There appeared to be a search going on for the 
missing hat, and Barbara's face turned very red as 
she took some dishes out into the kitchen and on 
turning to come back saw the missing hat on a chair 
at the end of the table, where she had absent-mind- 
edly carried it on Mr. Morton's arrival. 

She recovered herself in a moment, and, taking up 
the hat, brought it into the hall, saying as she con- 
fronted the minister: "I plead guilty to absent-mind- 
edness, Mr, Morton. I carried your hat out into the 

They all had a good laugh at Barbara's expense, in 
which she joined and Mr. Morton removed the last 




of Barbara's confusion by speaking of his own absent- 
minded moments. 

"The last time I had a lesson that ought to cure 
me," he said, smiling at Barbara frankly. "I left 
my sermon all neatly written on my desk in my room 
at the hotel, and brought with me into the pulpit 
several pages of blank foolscap paper that had been 
lying on the desk close by my sermon. I hadn't time 
to 1^ or send back for the sermon, and was obliged 
to preach without notes except the few I could make 
at the time." 

"O welt, absent-mindedness is one of the marks of 
genius," Mr. Ward remarked, laughing. 

"We will comiort ourselves with that hope, then, 
won't we Miss Cla*1<? Goo^l-t>y. 14ave enjoyed my 
visit very much." 

Barbara went back to fier work, bhwhing again 
over the little incident as she ent«*«d tlic kitchen, but 
grateful to the youflg man for the J^i»dly. off-hand, 
but thoroughly gentlemanly manner in wl^kM he had 
treated it. It was a very little event, *o IktU that it 
hardly seems worthy of mention, yet Bart>ara ^wind 
her mind recurring to it .several tinie.-^ durinj? the day. 
During some baking in the afternoon, Carl • an 
interested spectator, and finally prevaikvl on Barbara 



to ni,ake him a gingerbread man. When she had cut it 
out and put some white dough on it for eyes, nose, 
mouth, and coat-buttons, she suddenly remarked 
aloud after Carl and herself had both been silent some 
time, "He is a perfect gentleman and that is more 
than can be said of some college-bred men." 

"Is this a college-bred man, Barbara?" asked 
Carl the terrible. "I thought it was a gingerbread 
man. You said you would make me a gingerbread 
man. I don't want a college-bred man." 

"This is a gingerbread man," replied Barbara has- 
tily, as she turned to the oven and opened the door. 

"Then who is the other man?" persisted Carl. 

"O, never mind ; I was thinking out loud." 

"It isn't nice to do," remarked Carl reflectively. 

"I don't think it is, either," Barbara admitted. 

"Then what makes you do it ?" insisted Carl. 

"I won't any more when you are around," prom- 
ised Barbara with much positiveness. The child 
seemed satisfied with this statement ; but, when Bar- 
bara at last took the gingerbread man out of the oven, 
Carl suddenly said, "Let's name him, Barbara." 

"All right," said Barbara pleasantly. 

"You give a name," Carl suggested. 

"Well, how about Carl ?" 



"No, 1 doii't like that. Let's call him— let's call 
him Mr. Morton." 

"Very well," replied Barbara hurriedly. "Run 
right along with it. Your mama is calling you, and I 
must finish my baking." 

"Don't you think he looks like him?" Carl insist- 
ed as he grasped the figure by the feet, which in the 
process of baking had become ridiculously short and 
stubby, merging into the coat-tails. 

"No, I don't think it's a striking resemblance," said 

Barbara, laughing. 

"Well, I do. I think he looks just like him. 
I like Mr. Morton, don't you?" But at that mo- 
ment Mrs. Ward called Cari in the tone he always 
obeyed, and Barbara did not have to answer him. 

She finished her work in a serious mood, and in 
the evening in the little room over the kitchen she 
at first sat down to meditate as her custom sometimes 
was. But, suddenly changmg her mind, she opened 
her Bible to seek out another of the passages that 
referred to the servant or to service, and after several 
unsuccessful attempts to locate a verse that she 
thought was in Thessalonians si.e found the passage 
in Ephesians sixth chapter, fifth verse. 

"Servants, be obedient unlo them that according 



to the flesh are your masters, with fear and trembling, 
in singleness of >N3ur heart, as unto Christ ; not in the 
way of eye-service as men pleasers ; but as servants of 
Christ, doing the will of God from the heart; with 
good will doing service, as unto the Lord and not un- 
to men ; knowing that whatsoever good thing each one 
doeth, the same shall he receive again from the Lord, 
whether he be bond or free. And ye, masters, do the 
same things unto them,and forbear threatening; know- 
ing that both their Master and yours is in heaven, and 
there is no respect of persons with Him." 

"I wonder just what those words mean," Barbara 
thought. 'And ye, masters, do the same things unto 
them?' Of course, they could not change places as 
master and slave. It must mean a mutual honesty and 
justice and Christlikeness in their relations to one 
another." And then she gained great comfort from 
the last verse. ''And there is no respect of persons 
with Him." 

"My father in heaven," she prayed, "I have chosen 
my woric, or Thou hast chosen it for me. Just what its 
crosses may be, I do not yet know. Whatever I shall 
be called upon to lose, Thou knowest. But in and 
through all, sustain me with this loving thought, 
'There is no respect of persons' with Thee, Thou who 


Bnif\ TO RERVE. 

(lost respect the sen ice of men, and not their outward 
station. Sustain me by thy grace, in Christ's name. 


When Thursday afternoon of that week came, Bar- 
bara remembered her promise to Mrs. Vane; and. 
when she went out, as it was her regular afternoon 
off, she told Mrs. Ward that she was going to call un 
Mrs. Vane. 

"You will find her a very interesting woman. I 
don't know how much she can do to help your ideas. 
She is eccentric. But in any case yon will find her 
interesting," Mrs. Ward ventured to say. 
"I am sure ^he is," said Barbara. 
"If she asks you to stay to supper you needn't come 
back to get ours. I'll manage somehow." Mrs. Ward 
spoke kindly, and Barbara was on the point of thank- 
ing her and accepting the permission, when she noted 
Mrs. Ward's pale face and nervous manner. She hail 
been suffering all the morning from one of her 
wretched headaches. 

"Thank you." replied Barbara quietly. "But I pre- 
fer not to. I'll be back in time to get supper." 

"Do just as you please," Mrs. Ward replied, but 
Barbara detected a look of relief on her tired face as 
she went out. 

tfEnrrcE rft rot At.. 


Rfr . \'anc was at home and welcomed Barbara 

"I'm all alone here, and you're just the person I 
want to see. Went to call on your mother yesterday. 
She is lonesome, and I've asked her to come and pay 
me a visit of a week or a month, just as she feels. I 
find that Thomas for some reason never heard of your 
father's death. Such things will happen even in a 
world of newspapers and telegraphs. I want you to tell 
me all about yourself and your plans. I don't be- 
lieve vou can do a thing, but I am ready to help you 
if you're the girl I think you are. The Vanes always 
were proud and aristocratic people; but, if we have 
ever stood up for one thing more than another, it 
was for honest labor in the house or the field or the 
shop or any where, I hate the aristocracy of doing 
nothing. All my boys learned a trade, and all my girls 
can cook just as well as they can play the piano, and 
some of 'em better. I'd rather eat their pie than hear 
their piano. Sit right there, dear, and be comfortable." 

Barbara had not been in the house half an hour 
before she was deeply in love with the lady of it. After 
an hour had passed she was astonished at Mrs. Vane ,: 
knowledge of human nature and her grasp of the sub- 
ject of servants and housekeeping problems generally. 

.! ! 



"People will tell you, ujy dear, that 1 am an ec- 
centric old lady with a good many crank notions about 
servants. The fact is, I trv to treat them just as Christ 
taught us to do. That's the reason folks call me queer. 
People that try to do the Christlikc thing in all rela- 
tions of life have always been called queer, and always 
will be." 

When Barbara finally went away after refusinj? 
an urgent invitation to remain to tea, she had mad. 
an arrangement with Mrs. Vane to meet with her ami 
Mrs. Ward and a friend of both, to talk ov^r somo 
practical plan for getting the servants and the hoiiM. 
keepers together for a mutual conference. 

"If anything is done." Mrs. Vane insisted, "it 
must be done with both parties talking it over in a 
spirit of Christian love. It never can be solved in any 

other way." 

The date fixed for the corf rence was two weeks 
from that afternoon, and BurDara went back to her 
work quite enthusiastic over the future and very mucli 
in love with the woman who was known to most of the 
members of Marble Square Church as "tint eccentric 
Mrs. Vane." 

The two weeks had ^one by quickly, and Thurs- 
day noon at dinner in the Ward house Barbara was 

.. i 



surprised to find, when she came in to serve the first 
course, that Arthur Ward had unexpectedly arrived. 
He had spent two months of his suinr.:er vacation 
with college classmates on the lakes, and had returned 
sooner than his mother had expected, to stay until the 
term opened again. 

"Arthur, this is Miss Clark, about whom I have 
written you," Mrs. Ward said a little awkwardly. 

Tlie young man looked at her with interest, and 
1 lowed politely. Barbara returned his bow simply, and 
(lid not speak. She felt a little annoyed as the meal 
proceeded and she was called in at different times. 
She thought the family was talking about her, and 
that the coll,ege student had been asking questions. 
Several times she was conscious that he was looking 
at her. It vexed her, although his look was always 

The meal was almost over when Mr. Ward sud- 
denly asked his wife : **0, have you heard, Martha, that 
Dr. Law had a stroke yesterday? Very sudden. It 
will result in his leaving Marble Square pulpit." 

"No! How sudden! What will the churcl' do?" 

Mr. Ward was silent a moment. Barbara was 
just going out. She slackened lier step almost un- 


II i 

■At 12.8 


1^ |3|2 

if |3£ 

■ 22 

St L& 




■ 1.8 









"1 have no question they will call Morton." 

"Will he come?" 

"I think he will." 

"Qood I" said Arthur. 

"Yes, Morton will be a success in Marble Square- 
pulpit," Mr. Ward said positively. 

Barbara went out, shutting the kitchen door. She 
did not hear Mr. Ward say, "If Morton goes on as he- 
has begun, he will become one of the greatest preach- 
ers this country ever saw." 



HEN Barbara started that afternoon with 
Mrs. Ward for Mrs. Vane's to meet with her 
in the first conference, she had no plan of 
any kind worked out, even in the vaguest outline. She 
had told Mrs. Ward what Mrs. Vane had said before, 
and asked her whether she was willing to go with her. 
Mrs. Ward was very willing, and Barbara gave her 
credit for being as much interested as any woman 
might be expected to be in anything that was not even 
thought out far enough to be rightly called a "con- 

Mrs. Vane met them with her usual bright greet- 
ing, and again Barbara felt the sharpness of her look. 

"I've asked Hilda to come in for a little while this 
afternoon. She doesn't want to stay very long, and 
I had rather hard work to persuade her to come at 
all. She's shy. Mrs. Ward, how's your headache? Or 
maybe this isn't your day for having one. I don't 
wonder your girls have trouble with you. You're so 
nervous with your headaches that I wouldn't venture 
to work for you short of ten dollars a week in ad- 

. i. 



vance. I wonder Miss Clark has stayed as long as she 


All this the old lady said with astonishing rapidity 
and a frankness that amazed Barbara and made Mrs. 
Ward laugh. 

"Miss Clark is learning to put up with me I think," 
Mrs. Ward said, with a kindly look at Barbara, who 
was pleased. 

"O, I should think so." said Mrs. Vane, looking 
sharply from one to the other. "You don't either of you 
have many grievances, I imagine. Sit right there, 
Hilda!" she exclaimed as the girl Barbara had met 
on Sunday came into the room. "You remember 
Mrs. Ward and Miss Clark, Hilda? We met them 
last Sunday." 

Hilda sat down awkwardly in the seat indicated by 
Mrs. Vane, and there was a moment of embarrassed 
silence. Hilda was dressed to go out, and Barbara 
could not help wondering how far the girl understood 
what the meeting was about. She began to feel a little 
angry at Mrs. Vane, without knowing just why, when 
that good woman very frankly cut across the lots of 
all preliminaries by saying: "Now then, Hilda, you 
know well enough what I asked you to come in for. 
We want to make a beginning of some sort at help- 

TO Bt: OF LHtJ IX rut: world. 


ing the girls who are out at service realize what their 
work means, and what they are worth to a family, and 
all that." 

Hilda looked embarrassed, and said nothing. Bar- 
bara came to the rescue. 

"Don't you think the first thing we need to do is 
to settle on some really simple plan by which we can 
reach all the girls and let them know what we propose 
to do?" 

"You never can do it," Mrs. Ward spoke with some 
emphasis. "It has been tried before by Mrs. Rice and 
one or two others. The fact is, the girls do not care 
to meet together for any such purpose." 

"Mrs. Ward is right and wrong both," Mrs. Vane 
said. "I'm not going to discourage you, but you have 
set out on as hard a task as ever a body undertook. 
The very people you want to help are the very ones 
who don't want you bothering around." 

"Then perhaps we had better start with the house- 
keepers first," replied Barbara, feeling conscious of the 
bigness and badness of the dragon as never before. 
"If you and Mrs. Ward and three or four more 
could — " 

"But we have no plan," Mrs. Ward spoke up rath- 
er quickly. "You will simply find that the women of 




Crawford face the question without any ideas about it. 
We all agree that with rare exceptions the help we 
generally get is incompetent and unsatisfactory and 
not to be depended on for any length of time. And 
that's about all we're agreed upon." 

Mrs. Vane looked jharply at Barbara and then at 


"Hilda," she said sharply, but at the same time not 
unkindly, "tell us what you think. What's the matter 
with all you girls? What's the reason you aren't all 
full-grown angels like us housekeepers?" 

Barbara could not help smiling, although she had 
been sitting so far with a growing feeling of discour- 
agement. As for Hilda, she had evidently been long 
enough with Mrs. Vane to be used to her queer ways, 
and was not disturbed by her eccentricities. She 
shuffled her feet uneasily on the carpet, and dug the 
point of a very bright red parasol into a corner of a 


"I don't know, Mrs. Vane," she finally said slowly. 

"1 have no complaint to make." 

"No, but I have. Now you know , Hilda, you didn't 
half do your work right this morning ; and, if I hadn't 
come out into the kitchen, the pudding Mr. Vane likes 
would have been burned to a crisp. Wouldn't it?" 



"Yes ma'am," Hilda answered, her face rivalling in 
color her parasol. 

"And yet you had the clock there before you as 
plain as day. What were you thinking of?" 

"I can't always be thinking of a pudding!" Hilda 
replied with more spirit than Barbara had yet seen 

in her. 

"There, my child," Mrs. Vane said gently without 
a particle of impatience or ill nature, "I don't blame 
you much. I have let puddings burn, myself, when I 
was a bride beginning housekeeping for Mr. Vane. We 
must make allowances for human nature that can't 
always be thinking of puddings." 

"At the same time," said Mrs. Ward with a trace 
of impatience in her tone, "somebody must think of 
puddings while they are baking. We c«n't be excus- 
ing human nature all the time for carelessness and 
lack of attention to the details of service. I think 
one great cause of all the trouble we meet in the whole 
problem is the lack of responsibility our servants take 
upon themselves. Out of a dozen girls that have been 
in my house within the last three years, not more than 
two or three could be trusted to wash my dishes prop- 
erly. What can a woman do when after repeated in- 
structions and admonitions her girls persist in using 

ll 5 

[I I 

rl i 
[i I 


dirty dishwater and putting things away on the 
shelves only half wiped? We can't always be excusing 
them on account of human nature. It may sound 
absurd, but I have gone to bed downright sick many a 
time because my girl would persist in putting dirty 
dishes back into the pantry." And poor Mrs. Ward 
heaved a sigh as she looked at Mrs. Vane, who sat 
erect and sharp-eyed before her. 

"That's it!" she said sharply. "Responsibilii 
That's the word. But how get responsibilii, 
into a class of people who have no common bond of 
sympathy or duty ? No esprit de corps ? The respon- 
sibility must grow out of a sense of dignity that be- 
longs to the service. As long as the service is re- 
garded by those who perform it as menial and degrad- 
ing, the only thing we can expect is shiftlessness and 
all lack of responsibility." 

"Responsibility generally goes with a sense of 
ownership," suggested Barbara. "But I don't see how 
anything likt ownership can be grafted upon a serv- 
ant girl's work. Now I wouldn't dare leave dishes 
dirty, because of my mother's training, no matter 
whose dishes they were. But I can easily see it is not 
very strange for a girl to slight any work in which she 
does not feel any ownership." 



"There's another thing," Mrs. Vane said. "I've 
told Mrs. Ward so several times. She has always had 
a good deal of company and five in the family anyway 
a good deal of the time. She ought not to expect to 
get along with just one girl. At the close of a big sup- 
per i-t is almost half-past seven. The quickest girl can't 
wash up all the dishes properly in less than half an 
!iour. If she wants to go out somewhere in the even- 
ing, what is more natural than for her to do the work 
•.n a hurry? She has been at work all day since half- 
past S.X. She works longer hours and for less pay 
than young men in stores get for clerk service that 
is not so important by half as the housework for a 
family. Now I'll warrant that Mr. Ward pays some 
of his clerks down-town three times what he pays the 
girl at home for almost twice the hours of labor. 
Wouldn't it be better and cheaper in the long run, Mrs. 
Ward, to hire two persons to do your work, at least 
for a part of the time? I'm inclined to think a good 
many of us expect too much of one girl. We work 
them too many hours. And we ought to remember 
that for most of the time the work really is what must 
be called drudgery." 

'One girl in the house almost kills me. Two 
would complete the business, I am sure." said Mrs. 


i! i 


iff *-Jti3 



Ward, smiling at Barbara. "Some of what you say is 
very true. But I am sure Mr. Ward would never 
think of giving as much for the work in the home as 
he jives for clerk work in the store." 

"And why not, if the service performed is as se- 
vere and, more than that, as important to your peace 
and comfort, and his own as well when he gets home ? 
I know a good many farmers who i. ^.k nothing of 
paying out several hundred dollars every year on im- 
proved machinery to lighten their own labor on the 
farm. But they think their wives are crazy if they ask 
for an improved washing-machine that costs twenty- 
five dollars or a few kitchen utensils of the latest style 
to save labor. That's one reason so many farmers' 
wives are crazy over in Crawford County Asylum. 
Men expecc to pay a good price for competent service 
in their business. Why should they expect to get com- 
petent servants in the house for the price generally 

"I don't think it's the price that keeps competent 
girls away from housework, Mrs. Vane," remarked 
Barbara. "I have figured it out that even on four 
dollars a week at Mrs. Ward's I can save more than I 
could possibly save if I worked for Bondman at five 
or even six, paying out of that for board, lodging, and 

TO HE or t'f/K I\ THE WORLD. 


washing. If the price paid for competent servants was 
raised in Crawford to ten dollars a week, I doubt if 
the girls now in the stores and factories would leave 
their positions to enter house service." 

"I believe they would, a good many of them, any- 
way ;" Mrs. \'ane replied with vigor. "You can get 
almost anything if you pay for it." 

"But we must remember, Mrs. Vane, that the great 
majority of families in Crawford cannot afford to pay 
such prii for househelp. You have no idea how 
much trouole I am in for paying my girls four or four 
and a half a week. My neighbors who say ihey can- 
not afford that much tell me their girls become dis- 
satisfied when they learn what we pay, and very often 
leave because I pay my girls more than other house- 

"The whole question has as many sides to it as 
a ball !" ejaculated Mrs. Vane, rubbing her nose vig- 
orously. "I think I shall fii a'ly go back to the old 
primitive way of doing my own work, living on two 
meals a day and washing the dishes once. You needn't 
stay any longer, Hilda, if you want to go." 

Hilda, who had given signs of being in a hurry, 
rose and walked toward the door. Barbara also got 
up and, somewhat to Mrs. Vane's surprise, said: "I 



think I'll go, too. I'll walk along down town with 
you, Hilda, if you don't mind." 

Hilda nodded and Barbara was not quite sure that 
she was pleased to have her company; but Barbara 
had been thinking of a plan, and she needed to be with 
Hilda a little while in order to carry it out. So the 
two '/ent away together. 

They had wall J down the street half a block, 
when in answer to a question Hilda said she was 
planning to do some shopping. 

"Let me go, too; ate you willing?" 
I don't mind," said Hilda, but with a note of hesi- 
... -n that Barbara could not help remarking. 

They went into several of the smaller stores, where 
both of them purchased one or two small articles, and 
finally entered the great store of Bondmans. 

Hilda knew one of the girls in this store, and as 
they stood by her counter she introduced Barbara. The 
jjirl behind the counter stared hard at Barbara, but 
returned her greeting civily enough, and then began 
to giggle and whisper with Hilda. Hilda seemed 
nervous, and repeatedly looked at Barbara as if she 
were in the way; and Barbara, thinking the others 
might have some secrets, walked over to the opposite 

TO ;;/ OF iNi: i\ Tin: woitut. 


She had been there only a minute when a young 
man sauntered up to Hilda and the friend behind the 
counter, and all three began to talk together. He was 
not a bad-looking fellow, but Barbara (|uickly put 
him down as of that class of weak-headed youths who 
might be seen almost any Sunday eveni-^g walking . 
down the main street of Crawford in co any with 
one or more factory girls. 

This time Barbara did not atterr«t to nvoid watch- 
ing Hilda. A floor-walkei i-; the store, going by at 
the same time, glanced sharply at the young man ; but 
he was apparently buying something. The floor-walk- 
er turned at the end of the counter, and came back ; 
and this time he looked longer at the two girls, and 
finally beckoned to the one behind the counter. She 
turned very red. and came over to where he stood. 
He whispered something to her iiat made her turn 
pale and instantly she went back and completed the 
sale of some little articles that Hilda had bought, giv- 
ing the floor-walker, as she did so, several hateful 
looks. Hilda and the young man continued to talk 
tofjcther while waiting for the change. When it came, 
he seemed to hesitate and finally leaked over at Bar- 
bara. Hilda said something, and he answered and 
walked slowlv out of the store. 

J --1.;' 

-f 'its 

. i. 



Barbara came over, and Hilda picked up her pur- 

"Are you ready ?" 

"Yes," Hilda said shortly, and after a word from 
the girl behind the counter they went out. 

They walked along for some distance and tlien 
Barbara ventured to say, "Why didn't you introduce 
me to your young gentleman friend?" 

Hilda colored deeply as she answered slowly, "I 
didn't suppose you would care to know him." 

"Why not?" 

"Well, you're not really one of us," said Hilda, 
looking sideways at Barbara. 

Barbara could not help smiling. "How not one 

of you?" 

"Mrs Vane told me you're not really working out." 

"What am I doing, then?" 

"I don't know," replied Hilda hopelessly, and 
then was silent. Barbara made her decision rapidly. 

"But I'm working out just as much as you are, 
Hilda. What is the diflference?" 

"You're educated," said Hilda shortly. 

"But that has nothing to do with the fact of my 
being a servant in Mrs. Ward's house. I want to be 
friends with you, Hilda, Aren't you willing?" 


"I don't mind," Hilda answered in a tone that Bar- 
bara did not think very encouraging. They walked 
on a distance without speaking. Then Barbara became 
conscious that across the street, nearly opposite, the 
voung man who had come into the store was walking, 
and Hilda knew it as well. 

Barbara looked at the girl again and the look 
determined her next question, even at the risk of 
loosing what little hold she might have on Hilda. 

"I am going to turn down here to Mrs. Ward's," 
she said as they reached a corner and stopped. As they 
stopped, Barbara saw the young man linger and finally 
stop in his course. "I hope yoti won't misunder- 
stand me," Barbara continued, looking into Hilda's 
face with great frankness. "But does your young 
gentleman friend visit you frequently at Mrs. 

Hilda turned red, and at first Barbara thought she 
was about to give an angry reply. Instead of that she 
began to laugh a little. 

"Yes, he calls sometimes. He's in the packing- 
house on night force." 

Barbara looked at Hilda earnestly a moment, then 
abruptly turned, saying "Good-by," as she left. She 
(lid not look back, but was as certain as if she had, 


noii\ Tu sERVt:. 

that the young man had instantly crossed the street 
and' joined Hilda. 

"And what business is it of mine if he has?" Bar- 
bara vexed herself with the question as she walkcil 
along. "I am glad she said he called. Mrs. Vane must 
know it. What business is it of mine if the girl meets 
him this way? He probably has very little other 
time. Shall a girl out at service have no society, no 
company? O, the whole thing is of a miserable piece 
with the entire miserable condition of service. What 
is to prevent girls like Hilda throwing themselves 
away on young men like this one ? And who is either 
to blame her or care one way or the other if she docs? 
And what possible prospect is there for me or any 
one to change the present condition of things?" 

Barbara walked slowly back to her work, depressed 
by the events of the afternoon. What indeed could 
she do, if. as Mrs. Vane said, the very people that 
needed to be helped into better ways of living did 
not care to be helped . if, like Hilda they saw no farther 
and cared no more for better things than the little 
episode of the store and the young man suggested. 

She felt so helpless in view of future progress that 
when she went up to her room that evening siu- 
was in great need of comfort, ancl in her search for 



the passages having servants in mind she came upon 
tliat one in Titus, second chapter, ninth verse. 

"Exhort servants to be in subjection to their own 
masters and to be well pleasing to them in all things ; 
not gainsaying ; not purloining; but showing all good 
fidelity ; that they may adorn the doctrine of God our 
Saviour in all things." 

"I don't think there is any danger of my 'purloin- 
ing,' " Barbara said, smiling a little. "Although I have 
sometimes been tempted to do a little 'gainsaying,' 
especially when Mrs. Ward has one of her severe 
headaches. I really believe I have tried to be 'weil 
pleasing' and also establish a reputation for 'good 
fidelity.' But that is a wonderful end to the exhorta- 
tion, 'That they may adorn the doctrine of God our 
Saviour in all things.' If a servant, a slave in Paul's 
time, could go on serving with that end in view, what 
shall I say of myself? Is my service of such a charac- 
ter that it adorns like a jewel that which in itself is a 
jewel to begin with, the doctrine of God our Saviour ? 
This is a high standard for a hired girl, Barbara. 
If you live up to it, it will keep you busy." 

She offered her prayer with great earnestness that 
she might have the leading of the Spirit of Light, and 
in lier prayer she remembered Hilda, fearing she knew 


R07?V TO ftERvr:. 

not what for the girl, realizinjr a^ she never before had 
realized the many dangers that face working girls in 
large cities, and realizing, too, that, if she accom- 
plished any great things as she sometimes dreamed she 
might, it must be done by the aid of a power greater 
than her own, for never bef-re had she felt her own 
human weakness so strongly. 

For the next three weeks the days went by in an 
ordinary way for Barbara ; but, when she had time to 
reflect on them, she acknowledged that they had con- 
tained important events for her. It is because we 
are not able to see the bearing of what occurs day by 
day upon the entire programme of life that very often 
we do not count each day's sum as a part of the sum 


Barbara had been unusually confined to the house- 
work. Mrs. Ward had been again subject to an attack 
of nervous headache, and the whole of the care had 
been thrown upon Barbara. Mrs. Ward had now 
learned to trust her implicitly. This did not mean that 
the sharpness of her manner under stress of her 
headaches had entirely disappeared; but Barbara had 
learned almost perfectly how to anticipate her wishes, 
and the girl's great love for Carl and his complete 
trust in her, together with Barbara's cheerful, com- 



petent handling of the entire kitchen, had all united 
to capture Mrs. Ward's affections. She was content, 
even in her enforced idleness, to lie still with her pain 
and indulge in a great feeling of thankfulness for such 
a treasure in the house. 

She was talking of it one evening with her hus- 

"Do you realize, Richard, what a prize we have in 


"She is certainly a remarkable girl. The most 
competent servant we ever had in the house, isn't 

she ?" 

"Without any comparison. And I want you to 

build that room as soon as you can." 

Mrs. Ward had mentioned the matter of the room 
over the kitchen, and he had agreed that it was not 
suitable for a girl like Barbara. 

"Or any other girl, Richard," Mrs Ward had said. 

"Yes, I'll have a carpenter come right up and look 
over the house. We shall have to raise the roof over 
the kitchen." 

"Why can't we at the same time enlarge the 
kitchen so that Barbara can have a corner of that car- 
peted off for her own when she does not want to run 
up-stairs? I saw Mrs. Rice's kitchen the other day. 


nnn\ to fiRRVE. 

It is unusually larpc. One end of it is neatly fitted up 
with a table for books or sewing material, several 
comfortable chairs, and pictures on the walls, — a very 
cosey, comfortable corner, where her girl can receive 
her company or sit down to read or rest." 

"But Barbara never has any company, does she?" 
Mr. Ward asked, with a little amusement at the look 
hia wife gave him. "She hasn't any bcaus, as all our 
other girls have had." 

"No," Mrs, Ward answered thoughtfully "But—" 

"Well, what?" 

"Tf she had, we wo' 'd ask her to invite them into 
the parlor. Of course, we can't expect a girl as at- 
tractive as Barbara is to go through life without at- 
tracting some one." 

"Unless her place as a servant — " began Mr. 

"But why should that make any difference?" Mrs. 
Ward asked, irritated by the suggestion. "O dear, 
don't suggest my losing Barbara. Whoever gets her 
for his wife will get a perfect housekeeper and a rare, 
sweet girl in every way; but we shall lose the best 
servant we ever had, and then our troubles begin 
again, Mr. Richard Ward." 

Mr. Ward was silent awhile, and then he asked 

TO m: OF rsiE i\ the world. 


about Barbara's plans for solving the servant question. 

"I don't think she's done anything lately. I know 
she hasn't. Mrs. Vane sent over the other day to 
inquire when she was coming to see' her again. My 
illness has k^pt Barbara very close to the house late- 

If Barbara had heard this talk, it might have en- 
couraged her to confide in Mrs. Ward about a matter 
which had begun to troubk her somewhat, and that 
matter was no less than the action of her own son 
Arthur Ward. 

It was now nearing the end of the college vacation, 
and the young man would soon be starting back to 
college to enter on his senior year. During the weeks 
he had been at home he had spent a great deal of the 
time about the house. He was behind iji two of his 
studies', and was working a little to make up. 

One day Barbara while at work in the dining- 
room heard him wrestling with a German sentence 
in Faust. He seemed to be unable to render it into 
good English, and Barbara naturally began to trans- 
late it for him without looking at the book. 

"Isn't this the meaning?" she said, and then 
gave a very good interpretation, Arthur listening 
us he lounged on the sofa, book in hand. 



"Of course 'tis. That's just it ! What a numskull I 
must be! Wish you'd translate the whole thing for 
me." the college youth \entured to hint. 

"Thank you,* no. sir! I have other work to do," 
Barbara had laughed. 

But from that little incident she began to note 
little irritating attentions paid to her, at first insignifi- 
cant, but the last few days before the young man de- 
parted for college they were unmisitakable, and Bar- 
bara was annoyed and even angered. Site was really 
much relieved when he had gone. 

But that experience was not at all to be compared 
with a discovery she made as to Arthur's habits, and 
it was a matter of regret to her afterward that she did 
not inform Airs. Ward of it. Ir was the fact that 
several times she felt certain the young man had been 
drinking. She had never known him to be intoxi- 
cated; but she W3S sure he had more than once been 
dangerously near it, and it was a matter of sur- 
prise to her that Mr. and Mrs. Ward seemed so indif- 
ferent to it. 

"Oh dear I" Barbara sighed as she went the rounds 
of her daily task, carrying this added burden of 
knowledge. "Is there no family without its skeleton? 
C)ught I to drag it out for their inspection, if they 



don't know of its existence? It hardly seems to be 
my business. And they must be bHnd not to have 
noticed as much as has been apparent even to a 

It was a week after Arthur's departure that Mr. 
Ward announced the news of Mr. Morton's acceptance 
of his call to Marble Square Church. It was in the 
evening after the supper work was all done ; and Bar- 
bara, 9s her custom had been for several d?ys during 
the remodelling of her room, was seated with the fami- 
ly in the dining-room, which was also the favorite 
living-room, helping Mrs. Ward on some sewing. 
Lewis and George were reading, and Carl was play- 
ing on the floor near Barbara. 

"I have Morton's letter of acceptance, Martha. As 
chairman of the supply committee it came to me to- 
day. It is a good thing for Marble Square Church. 
The people had sense enough to call him without go- 
ing through a long course of candidating." 

"When is he coming?" Mrs. Ward asked. 

"Two weeks from next Sunday. The church at 
Carlton released him under special conditions, because 
they could get a man at once to fill his place. We're 
fortiniate to get a man like Morton. He has a future." 

"Barbara made me a gingerbread man once; and 


noR\ TO fiRmn. 

we called it Mr. Morton, didn't we, Barbara?" Carl 
spoke up suddenly after an absorbed silence during 
which he was apparently not listening to a syllable that 
was being said. 

"Where is Mr. Morton going to stay?" Mrs. Ward 

"I don't know yet. I wrote him that we would be 
delighted to take him in here, but we didn't have the 

"And I told Barbara," Carl broke in as if nothing 
had been said since he spoke last, "it it I thought the 
gingerbread man looked just like Mr. Morton, anJ 
she said she thought it didn't. I wish Mr- Morton 
would come here to live, don't you, Barbara ? Wouldn't 
that be fine?" 

Barbara did not answer, and Carl got up off the 
floor, and went t to her and pulled her work out 
of her hands. 

"Carl! Carl! You mustn't do that!" his mother 

"Say, Barbara, don't you?" Carl persisted. 

"Don't ask so many questions," replied Barbara, 
almost sharply. 

"I haven't asked many," Carl pouted ; but he went 
back to his game on the floor, wondering in his child- 



hood mind what ms-de the usually gentle Barbara so 

•J think the Brays can take him in. I hope they 
can. It's so near by that we can have him with us 
often. We'll be right on his way to church and back," 
Mr. Ward remarked as he settled himself to the read- 
ing of the evening paper. 

While her room was in process of reconstruction, 
Uarbara had been going home to stay with her moth- 
er. Mrs. Clark was only partly reconciled to Bar- 
bara's choice of a career; and when, this particular 
night, after the news of Mr. Morton's coming, Bar- 
bara arrived quite early (having excused herself soon 
on the plea of being very tired), Mrs. Clark noted the 
signs of trouble in Barbara's face, and instantly ques- 
tioned her about it. 

"Your work is too hard, too confining, my dear. 
It is not at all the work f< ^ a girl as you are. 

Baitara. It will kill you.' 

"No, mother, I don't think it will," Barbara r-- 
plied bravely. 

"But I don't see what good it is doing to any one. 
Vou are just slaving yotirself to death like any ordi- 
nary servant. Voiir talents as a teacher arc wasted. 
Your social position is gone. You have buried your- 



self in a kitchen. Of what use is it? You might he 
in the world like other people, with some opportuni- 
ties to rise ami make the most of yonrsel' .vhcreas 
now you arc shut out from all the ordinary social 

ambitions and accomplishments of other girls " 

".Mother, don't, please," cried Barbara, and tlun 
to her mother's surprise she suddenly broke down 
and began to cry softly. 

•'There! I told you so! You are all worn out!" 
said her mother, coming to her and putting a lovinj; 
arm about her. 

"No, mother, I am not very tired in body. I'm 
just a little bit discouraged to-night," Barbara de- 
clared ; and after a fc- minutes' crying, with her hea-i 
in her mother's 'ap, she began to talk cheerfully of h.i 
plans. She was cooing to see Mrs. Vane again. She 
thought she could in a little time get Hilda interested 
and add one or two more to the inner circle. They 
were very kind to her at the Ward's. It was very 
much like home there. They were making a new 
room for her, and enlarging her kitchen. Barbara 
spoke of this last with a playful reference to a laugh- 
ing remark Mrs. Ward had made while talking of the 
enlargement of the kitchen.--"You can set apart this 
new corner for company, unless you will use the par- 



ior when your beaus come to call." I don't think I 
shall ever need it, mother; you are all the beau I 
want," added Barbara gayly. 

Her mother shook her i.ead. "What company 
can you ever have, Barbara? You have forfeited all 
expectation of it by putting yourself i' to your pres- 
ent position. You are so situated that •lither your 
inferiors nor your equals can meet vith you socially. 
There is an impassable gulf bctwecr. you and the 
young people of your own degree of education and 

"Not necessarily, mother," Barbara stoutly pro- 
tested. Perhaps a little unconsciously she was trying 
to give herself some hope. "Any one for whom I 
might care as a friend in the social world would not be 
influenced by my position." 

"They couldn't help it, much as they might not 
wish to. Mrs. Ward is powerless, Mrs. Vane with 
all her wealth and influence, is powerless to give you 
any real standing in society. Try it and see." 

"I will," replied Barbara as a plan occurred to 
her. "But, mother, why should I be shut out of any 
society I might choose to enter, simply because I am 
doing good, honest, useful labor with my hands?" 

"I do not think you ought to be shut out, of 



course. We have gone over the ground a hundred 
times. But your position does shut you out. It is not 
a question of ought, but it does." 

"Any one I might care for would not regard my 
position," said Barbara stoutly. 

"Nevertheless, Barbara, you know as well as any 
one that because you are a hired girl in Mrs. Wards 
house you do not have the place in society that you 
would have if you taught school in Crawford. Why. 
even in the church it is clearly a fact that you cannot 
get the recognition that you would get if you were 
doing something else. Don't you yourself see that 
plainly enough?" 

Barbara was silent. She was going over in mem- 
ory the last few Sundays at Marble Square Church. 
Since that first Sunday when she had gone with Mrs. 
Ward she had been every week except one. She 
would have been a very stupid girl if she had not no- 
ticed the diflference between her reception by different 
ladies in the church and that given other youny 
women. A few women to whom Mrs. Ward had 
warmly introduced ht-r had treated her in every re- 
spect like any one else, with neither a patronizing nor 
a hypocritical manner. 

She had been invited into a Bible class bv the 



superintendent 6t the Sunday-school, and had been 
welcomed without any notice taken of her position; 
but, as the weeks went by, she was simply ignored by 
the majority of people to whom Mrs. Ward had intro- 
duced her. One invitation from a warm-hearted 
member of the' class she had accepted, to take tea at 
her house; but her reception by other young ladies 
who met her there was not such as to encourage her 
to go again. 

As far as the church was concerned, she found her- 
self simply passed by. 'There was no uncivil or coarse 
contempt of her. There was simply an ignoring of her 
as a part of the Marble Square congregation. For 
various reasons she had not yet gone to the Endeavor 
Society. It met on Sunday night before the preaching 
service, and so far she had reserved her Sunday nights 
as sacred to her mother, who did not feel able to go 

"I acknowledge what you say about the church, 
mother. But I may be partly to blame for it myself. 
I don't think the best people in Marble Square Church 
think any the less of me for working as a servant." 

"Maybe not, and yet even the best people are al- 
most unconsciously influenced by social habits and 
traditions. Why, even the minister is influenced by 



them. This new youngr man. Mr.— Mr.— what is his 

"Morton," said Barbara, coloring : but her mother 
did not notice, as her eyes were very poor at night. 

"This Mr. Morton, according to Mrs. Vane, is a 
remarkably good and sensible an(f talented young 
man ; but, if you were to join his church and become a 
worker there, you could not expect him to ignore the 
fact that you were a servant girl. He could not even 
forget that fact when he was speaking to you." 

"I don't know why!" Barbara exclaimed almost 

"I only used him as an illustration of any educated 
Christian gentleman anywhere," said Mrs. Clark, look- 
ing somewhat surprised at Barbara's exclamation. 

"A Christian gentleman," replied Barbara in a low 
tone, "would not make any distinction between a serv- 
ant girl and a school-teacher." 

Mrs. Clark sighed. "It is useless for me to argue 
with you, Barbara. You will probably learn all the 
bitterness of your position by painful facts. All the 
theories of social equality are beautiful, but very few 
of them amount to anything in the real world of so- 

"I don't care for society!" exclaimed Barbara. 



"That is, for society represented by wealth and fash- 
ion. But I don't believe any real Christian will ever 
make any cruel or false distinction between different 
kinds of labor." 

"It isn't that altogether," Mrs. Clark wearily said, 
as if too tired to continue. It's a diflference in social 
instincts and social feelings that separates people. You 
will find it out from experience in time, I am 

When Barbara went back to her work the next 
morning, it was with a resolution to do something that 
perhaps the talk with her mother had suggested. In 
the afternoon she asked Mrs. Ward for leave to go and 
see Mrs. Vane, and it was readily granted. 

When she knocked at the door and Mrs. Vane 
heartily bade her enter, she was more excited than she 
had been in a long time. 

"I want you to help me make a test, Mrs. Vane," 
Barbara said, as the old lady sat erect, confronting her 
and looking straight at her with those terrible eyes. 
Barbara, however, did not fear them. She under- 
stood the character of Mrs. Vane thoroughly. 

"Tell me all about it, dear," said Mrs. Vane. 

Barbara went on, calming her excitement, but not 
her interest. When she was through. Mrs. Vane said : 



"I am perfectly willing, my dear. But I think I know 
how it will all come out, beforehand," 

"But I want to prove it for myself." 

"Very well," Mrs. Vane replied, with the nearest 
apprc'ch to a sigh that Barbara had ever heard her 
utter, and Barbara finally departed to her work. If 
she had realized what results would follow the test 
Mrs. Vane was going to make for her, she could not 
have walked back so calmly. 




HE "test" that Barbara had proposed to Mrs. 
Vane was not anything very remarkable 
either as a test or as an experiment. Mrs. 
Vane was to invite several people to her house some 
evening and invite Barbara with the rest, presenting 
her to her guests and treating her in every way like all 
the others. The curiosity that Barbara felt was in 
reality something in the nature of a protest against 
a remark made by her mother that society would not 
accept, under any conditions, a servant into its circle, 
and that not even Mrs. Vane with all her wealth and 
eccentricity and social standing could really do any- 
thing to remove the barrier that other people would 
a' ^Mce throw up against her. 

o sooner h"'l Barbara perceived that Mrs. Vane 
\.as perfectly wilhng to do what she asked, and indeed 
looked forward to it with a kind of peculiar zest, than 
she began to regret having asked her. Nothing would 
be gained by it one way or the other, she said to her- 
self hesitatingly as she pondered over it. What if 
she should be welcomed for herself? That would 



prove nothing and help nothing. She would go to 
Mrs. Vane next day, and ask her to forgive a foolish 
impulse that had no good reason for existing ; and that 
would be the end of it. 

But before she had found an afternoon to go and 
see Mrs. Vane that energetic lady had invited her 
company, and it was too late. Barbara said to herself 
that she could refuse her ovm invitation and not go, 
but Mrs. Vane next day wrote a characteristic note 
urging Barbara not to disappoint her. 

"You must not hesitate to come for fear of putting 
me in any awkward position, my dear. I am inde- 
pendent of any verdict of selfish society, and the few- 
friends who do know and love me will treat you as 
if you were a member of my own family, and you may 
be surprised at some things yourself. For I have 
found after a much longer life than yours that there is 
still a good deal of human kindness yet, even among 
people of wealth and so-called fashion. On the whole, 
however, you will be doomed to meet with what you 
ui.'doubtedly expect. Wealth and family connections 
and, above all, position are counted greatest in the 
kingdom of men. The time will come when the first 
shall be last and the last first ; and, when that time 
comes, servant girls will be as good as duke's daugh- 



ters and eat at the same banquets. You are not will- 
ing to wait until then ; so come to my feast and pre- 
pare to be overlooked. But don't stay away for fear 
of hurting me. The only way you can hurt me is to 
misunderstand me. I don't mind that from my ene- 
mies. They don't know any better. But my friends 

ought to. 

"Your friend, MRS. VANE. 

This letter put Barbara more or less at her ease ; 
and, when the night of the gathering came, she went 
to it quite self-possessed and prepared for anything. 
The reality of it she was not prepared for in the least, 
and among all her experiences she counted this the 
most remarkable. 

It was to be rather a large gathering ; and, when 
Barbara arrived, the front rooms were quite well filled. 
Mrs. Vane introduced her to three or four ladies stand- 
ing in the front hall. One of them was a young 
woman about Barbara's age, elegantly dressed and 
very distinguished-looking, even to Barbara. Her 
name was Miss Dillingham. 

"My mother was a Dillingham," said Barbara sim- 
ply, as an opening remark for conversation. 

"Indeed ! Your name is " 

"Miss Clark," said Barbara. 



"O, yes, Miss Clark. What branch of the Dilling- 
hams, may I ask? The Vermont DilUnghams?" 

"Yes. Mother's father was from Washington 

"How interesting !" The yoimg woman smiled in 
a very interesting manner at Barbara. "Then we 
must be related somewhere. Our family is from the 
same county. Is your father living here in Craw- 

"Father died last year," said Barbara, returning 
the young woman's look of interest. 

"It's a little strange I have not me*^ you before." 
said Miss Dillingham. "You have been shut in on 
account of your father's death." She looked at Bar- 
bara's simple black silk dress, which was Barbara's 
one party dress, very plain, but in perfect taste in 
every way. "But I thought I knew all the Dilling- 
hams of the Vermont branch. Mother will want to 
meet you." 

"Is she h. to-night?" asked Barbara. 

"Yes. Shes in the other room somewhere. Ah ! 
There's the new minister of Marble Square Church, 
Mr. Morton!" Miss Dillingham exclaimed. "I 
didn't know that he had come yet. I think he is per- 
fectly splendid. Have you ever heard him preach?" 

A TKli: SLRV.IM' /S .4 LORD 


"Yes, I heard him once," replied Barbara; and the 
next moment Mr. Morton had caught sight of them, 
and came out into the hall and greeted them. 

"Good evening, Miss Clark. I'm rery glad to 
meet you again. And you, Miss Dillingham," he said 
in his simple but hearty manner. 

"You are good at remembering names," said Bar- 
bara, because she could not think of anything brilliant 
to say. "I've understood that one of the difficulties 
for ministers is the task of remembering so many peo- 

"Yes, I've heard Uncle James say," spoke up Miss 
Dillingham brightly — "Uncle James is rector of St. 
Mark's in Crawford," she nodded by way of explana- 
tion to Barbara, — "I've heard him say that he could 
remember names that began with certai . letters, but 
that he was completely forgetful of others. It must 
\)Q very nice to have a distinguished memory for peo- 
ple's names. It is such a pleasing flattery to the peo- 
])le who are addressed. Every one likes to be remem- 
bered. He takes it as a special compliment." 

"I don't know that I can claim any special faculty 
in that direction," the young minister replied, smiling. 
"Your names conic near the beginning of the alphabet, 
C and D. Perhaps that helps me. The farther one 




gets into the alphabet, the more intricate and difficult 
the matter becomes." 

"It's a very disappointing explanation, Mr. Mor- 
ton," said Miss Dillingham, laughing. "We hoped, 
at least I did, that it was something personal about 
ourselves that made you remember us." 

"What, for example ?" said Morton gravely. 

"For example, our— our looks, or " Miss Dil- 
lingham turned to Barbara. "What shctdd you say, 
Miss Clark ?" 

"Or our occupations," suggested Barbara, color- 
ing a little. 

"But we've no occupations," said Miss Dillingham 
carelessly. "At least, I haven't any since finishing at 
Vassar. Mother wants me to study photography. 
What would you say, Mr. Morton ?" 

"I?" The young man seemed unprepared for an 
answer. "O, I should say you would take a very 
good picture." 

". »v, that's certainly a compliment, isn't it. Miss 
Clark?" she exclaimed, laughing again. "And yet 
thev told me you couldn't talk small talk, Mr. Mor- 

"I was trying to retrieve my blunder about the 
memory of the names," said Mr. Morton, laughing 



with them. "But, if you really want my opinion about 
the photography, I think it would be a good thing for 
you to learn it. I believe everyone ought to have an 
occupation of some kind." 

"Even society young women?" 

"Yes, ever, they," Morton answered with his char- 
acteristic gravity, which, however, was not at all 
gloomy or morose. Youhg women like Miss Dilling- 
ham liked it, and spoke of it as fascinating. The rea- 
son it A'as fascinating was that it revealed a genuine 
seriousness in life. Not morbid, I ut interesting. 

"What would you have us do, then? What can so- 
ciety girls like Miss Clar'c and myself do?" 

Miss Dillingham asked the question seriously, or 
thought she did. 

"Really, I am not competent to determine your 
duty in the matter," the young man answered, lookip^ 
earnestly at Barbara, although Miss Dillingham had 
askf ' the question. "Perhaps Miss Clark can answer 
better than I can." 

"I don't call myself a society girl at all," said Bar- 
bara, looking straight into Miss Dillingham's face. 
"I have to work for my living." 

"No? Do you?" the young woman asked eagerly. 
"It must be very interesting. Tell me what you do." 


/loAf.v ru f<t:K\E. 

There was not a particle of vul^^ar curiosity in tin- 
tone or manner of the speaker, and Barbara did not 
fe«l at all embarrassed as she answered quietly: "1 
am a servant in Mrs. Ward's house. The 'hired girl,' 
some people call me." 

Miss Dillingham had irar. ' cagcr'v toward Uar- 
bara in anticipation of her reply. When it came, she 
evidently did not quite understand it. 

"The— the 'hired girl'?" 

"Yes. I do the housework there. Everything 
from the marketing to the dish-washing. I assure you 
I have an occupation all day long." 

"Miss Clark is a good cook," Mr. Morton spoke 
up as Miss Dillingham stared at Barbara. "I can 
speak from experience, for I have dined at the 
Wards'." He smiled frankly and in perfect ease at 
Barbara, and she was grateful to him. 

"It nuist be very — very — hard and — disagreeable 
work," ^liss Dillingham stammered, still looking hard 
at Barbara. 

"Some of it is," replied Barbara. "But some parts 
of housework are very interesting. It's not all 
drudgery," she added, looking bravely at Mr. Morton 
although she was talking to Miss Dillingham. 

Just then some new guests came down the stairs, 



and the three were pushed into the sittuig-room. 
Miss DiUingham took advantage of the movement to 
excuse herself, and left Barbara and Mr. Morton to- 
{,'ether for a few moments. 

"Do you think Miss Dillingham was a little sur- 
prised at your occupjition, Misi Clark?" Mr. Morton 
asked, looking at Barbara intently. 

"I think so. Nearly every one is. Aren't you ?" 
Barbara had not meant to be so blunt. The ques- 
tion was uttered before she was aware, and then she 
stooti more confused than at any time during the 

"Yes, I am," he answered frankly. "Of course, 
you are erlucated and — refined — and could be — school- 
teacher or — or— a photographer," he added with a 
smile that somehow relieved both of them. "Inst ad 
of that you choose to be a house servant. I have often 
wondered why." 

Barbara colored. How "often" had he wondered ? 
Rut she looked up at him and then looked down again. 
His eyes were very large brown eyes, full of thought, 
and Barbara was a little afraid of them. 

"I had to do something. There was no school for 
me, and the stores did not offer any opportunity for a 
living. I chos» the work of a servant because it 



seemed to me I could at the same time make a living 
and do something for the girls who work out because 
I was one of them." 

"And can you, do you think ?" he asked with great 
interest. But just then, to his evident annoyance, one 
of those persons who believe in keeping people mov- 
ing on such occasions broke in with, "Ah, Morton, so 
delighted to see you. A dozen people right here want 
to meet you. Mrs. Jones, Miss Wainright, Miss Wal- 
lace, — Mr. Morton." 

Mr. Morton turned from Barbara with a parting 
look and smile that she thought she had a right to re- 
member all the evening, and met the persons his 
friend had mentioned. 

"Permit me to introduce Miss Clark." He pre- 
sented Barbara to the company, and she said a few- 
words in reply to a word about the evening or the 
weather volunteered by one of the ladies. Then they 
directed all their remarks to Mr. Morton; and, there 
being no men in the little group, gradually she fouml 
herself outside the talk ; and, as the company crowded 
together more in the room, she was separated from the 
rest and found herself alone, with no one to talk to. 
Mrs. Vane was in the parfor, and Barbara awkwardly 
stood by herself until the pushing of people gradually 



moved lier up to a table where she was glad to find 
some views to look at. 

She was turning them over and thinking of what 
Mr. Morton had said, when Miss Dillingham came up 
again with an elderly lady dressed in great elegance 
like the younger woman. 

"Mother wants to meet you, Miss Clark. She 
wants to talk over the Dillinghams." 

Miss Dillingham introduced her mother, stood 
listening a few moments, and then went away. When 
Barbara saw her again, she was again talking ani- 
matedly with Mr. Morton. Once they looked over 
toward her, and Barbara was certain she was the sub- 
ject of their talk. Evidently Miss Dillingham was 
making inquiries about her. 

"My daughter has been telling me that your 
mother was a 'Dillingham.' " 

Barbara nodded. 

"We feel proud of the Dillinghams," the old lady 
said emphatically. "It's an old family with a record. 
Your mother was related to the Washington County 
branch ?" 

Barbara told her, adding a little proudly, "Mother 
is first cousin to the Radclif]fs." The minute she said 
it she wished she hadn't ; it looked like an obvious at- 



tempt to gain a point socially. Mrs. Dillingham re- 
garded Barbara with added respect. 

"The Howard Radcliffs?" 

"Yes. The governor is mother's nephew." 

"Governor Radcliff?" 

"Yes," Barbara answered. 

She was vexed with herself now for mentioning 
the fact, and her vexation was increased by remem- 
bering another fact, that during all her father's finan- 
cial reverses the Radcliflfs had coldly refused to help, 
and had been to some extent responsible for her fath- 
er's final losses. She could have bitten her tongue at 
the thought of her silly eagerness to let this old lady 
know that she was somebody. 

Mrs. Dillingham was looking at her with the great- 
est possible respect. Evidently the first cousinship 
and the Howard Radcliflf connection were connections 
of the highest importance. 

"Your father is dead, Alice tells me. Then you are 
living with your mother?" She did not wait to give 
Barbara time to answer, but said : "You must conio 
and see us. I shall be glad to call on your mother, if 
you will give me the address." 

Barbara gave her the street and number, and then, 
looking straight into her face, said, "Did Miss Dilling- 


ham tell you anything else about me ?" It had begun 
to (lawn on Barbara that for reasons not quite clear 
the daughter had not told the mother that Barbara was 
a house servant. 

"Why, no. Is there anything more?" Mrs. Dil- 
lingham r Wn a tone she never used except to per- 
sons who her social equals. "Are you related 
to royalty?" 

"Yes. I don't know but I am," replied Barbara, 
Hushing proudly, a sense of the divinity of service al- 
most overwhelming her even before that gorgeous 
figure standing so distinctly for the world's fashion 
and wealth. "I am a servant." 

"How? What fs that?" Mrs. Dillinghar.i was 
puzzled. She stared at Barbara. 

"You asked if I was related to royalty. The Son 

of God was a servant. I am one of God's children in 

[ the faith. And I told your daughter that I am obliged 

to work out for a living. I am in Mrs. Ward's 


"O !" Then Mrs. Dillingham was silent, and there 
I was an embarrassing moment. 

"Well " began the old lady slowly "I don't 

I see that that fact makes you any less a Dillingham, or 




"She's bravely standing by her Dillinghams," Bar- 
bara said to herself, and she began to admire the old 

"I suppose not," she said aloud. "But I thought 
you ought to know. And then " 

"Then I could call on your mother or not, eh ?" the 
old lady said sharply. 

"Yes, and recall your invitation to me," added Bar- 
bara, smiling. 


"Your invitation to call." 

"I shall be glad to see you any time," said Mrs. 
Dillingham gravely. 

"Still, you would a little rather I wouldn't?" Bar- 
bara asked quickly. 

The old lady colored. "Of course, the situation is 
unusual. I don't know why you're working out. 
Girls do such queer things nowadays. Is it in order to 
try the real aflfection of some young man, and get a 
husband for your own sake?" 

"I never thought of that," replied Barbara, laugh- 
ing. "No," and she became grave again in a moment 
"I have no great choice in the matter. I am workinj: 
out because no other position offered at the time an 1 
we are poor. I have to do something for a living." 



"If you do get a husband while you are a servant, 
he will probably be a brave and a good man. Now, 
my girl tells me she is never certain of any suitor, 
whether it is she or her money that is vanted." The 
old lady looked wistfully at Barbara, and then added : 
"I admire your pluck, my dear. It is a Dillingham 
trait. Don't forget this : Blood « thicker than water. 
I believe Alice would do what you're doing if she had 

"Would she ?" Barbara did not say it, but simply 
thought it, wonderingly, as she looked over at the 
splendidly dressed young woman still talking with so 
much earnestness with Mr. Morton. And as she 
looked she could not nelp a feeling of jealousy at the 
thought of this proud, handsome girl with her secure 
social position. 

Mrs. Dillingham was moving away. Barbara sud- 
denly reproached herself with a lack of courtesy. 

"I want to thank you, Mrs. Dillingham. I appre- 
ciate your— }our— treatment of me." 

"You didn't expect it, eh ? But Mrs. Vane and I 
are eccentrics. You won't find any others here. We 
exhaust the material. There's a good deal of non- 
sense about money and position. But family— that's 
another thing. Princes have had to cook. Look at 




King Alfred. And he made a bad job of it, too. I'm 
sure you do better than he did. Don't forget you're a 
Dillingham." And she left Barbara alone again. 

In a few minutes Mrs. Vane found her. 

"Are you enjoying it ?" she asked. 

"Yes, I've had an interesting time so far," Barbara 
answered truthfully. 

"I just saw Mrs. Dillingham talking to you. Wliat 
did she say?" 

Barbara told her briefly. 

"Umph! She's of good blood. We don't agree 
in theology, but I like her for her good sense in other 
things. But, as she says, there are not many others 
like us. Let me introduce Mr. Somers, and Miss 
Wilkes, and Mrs. Rowland. Excuse me. I must go 
to Mr. Morton. I can't let Miss Dillingham monop- 
olize him all the evening." 

The new grouj) to which Barbara had been intro- 
duced regarded her variously. Mr. Somers remarkcl 
that it was a warm evening. Mrs. Rowland nodded 
and said nothing, and presently turned to speak to 
some one else. Miss Wilkes coldly stared at Bar- 
bara, and in answer Ui Barbara's remark about 
some feature of the gathering she said, "Yes," and, 
as a young man went by, she turned her back directly 



on Barbara and began chatting- volubly to the young 
man. Barbara remembered at that instant that Miss 
Wilkes was one of the young women Mrs. Ward had 
introduced her to the last Sunday morning she was at 
church. The Wilkes family sat directly in front of the 

There was no one left but Mr. Somers ; and he was 
saying, as Barbara recovered from Miss Wilkes's di- 
rect snubbing : "Have you met that Miss Clark that 
Mrs. Vane has invited here to-niglit ? They say she's a 
mighty interesting girl, and she works out, too. 
Some people think Mrs. \'ane carries things too far to 
invite hired girls to her house. That's one of the 
things that makes it interesting to come here. You 
never know who's going to be here. Like a kind of a 
grab-bag, you know. Don't know whether you're go- 
ing to grab a bag of peanuts or a blank. Lots of 
blanks in society, don't \ ou think ?" 

"I don't know ; I haven't been out very much," re- 
plied Barbara demurely. She looked at Mr. Somers 
with interest. He was a tall young man in a regula- 
tion dress suit, and there was a look of good nature 
about him that Barbara rather liked. 

"Well, I should like to meet that Miss Clark. 
She's probably more interesting than most of the so- 

igjAiri|rtr "f "t' '^'•"^"' 



ciety girls. Do you know her? Do you see her any- 

"I'm Miss Clark," said Barbara, and at the sudden 
look of surprise on Mr. Somers's face she burst out 
laughing, and he finally joined her feebly. 

"The joke is on me, of course. But I never heard 
your name. Why don't people speak up when they 
introduce folks on these occasions? It might save 
trouble occasionally. Do you recollect if I said any- 
thing in front of your face that I might have said be- 
hind your back ?" 

"You said I was an 'interesting' girl," replied Bar- 
bara, still laughing at Mr. Somers, who mopped per- 
spiration plentifully. 

"Well, you are ; at least, so far," said Mr. Somers, 
looking at Barbara doubtfully. He seemed em- 
barrassed, as if he did not know just what to talk 
about ; and Barbara, who was perfectly self-possessed, 
helped him out by asking him to tell her who different 
people Wire. 

Mr. Somers, who evidently went out a great deal, 
eagerly took advantage of the opening to give Barbara 
several biographical sketches. 

"That old lady over there is Mrs. Reed. She's the 
richest woman in Crawford. That young man lean- 



ing on the piano is Judge Wallace's son. He's good- 
looking and knows it. That little thin lidy in the blue 
dress, talking with Mrs. Dillingham, is the most inter- 
esting person in tl^e house, present company excepted. 
Her husband lost every cent she had in the topaz 
mines out in Arizona last year, and shot himself at 
the bottom of one of 'em. That's Morton, the new 
preacher in Marble Square. They say he can 
preach peopl out of the soundest sleep known to the 
oldest inhabitant in Crawford. He's gifted and not 
bad-looking. We are said to resemble each other. 
The person right behind you is Miss Cambridge." 

"What were you saying about me, Mr. Somers?" 
inquired a very plain-looking girl very nicely dressed, 
turning suddenly around. 

Mr. Somers was disconcerted, but only for a mo- 

"I was going to say you were the handsomest girl 
in the house except Miss Dillingham," said Mr. Som- 
ers gravely. "Let me introduce Miss Clark. Hiss 

Miss Cambridge shook hands with Ba jara, and 
said in a low tone, "Mrs. Vane has told me about you." 
She seemed to want to meet Barbara, and Mr. Somers 
turned away with a pleasant word of regret at the in- 


nOR\ TO St: RYE. 

terruption ; but Barbara could not avoid the impres- 
sion that he was rather relieved than otherwise not to 
have to take her in to refreshments. 

"Will you go with me?" Miss Cambridge askc.l. 
and Barbara gladly consented. Vhe refreshment- 
room was filled except two seats. They went over to 
them, and it was not until they were seated that Bar- 
bara saw that Mr. Morton was next to her. with y 
Dillingham beside him. 

"You are having a pleasant evening. T hope?" Mr. 
Morton found time to say while conversation lan- 
guished a little. 

"Yes," replied Barbara. 

"I hope to know something sometime of the re- 
sults of your effort to ennoble service," he said with 
earnestness. Barbara knew the great, kind, brown 
eyes were looking straight at her. She raised her 
own. and looked into his face. She wondered at her 
courage as she did so. For it took courage to do it. 
"I don't t' ■ ik I shall do anything great," she said. 
"I think you will," he replied quietly. "I have 
great faith in that kind of life." 

There was no opportunity for anything more, but 
Barbara cherished the few words as if they were of 
the utmost importance. 

A TRIE fiERVW'T /<< ,1 hORIh 


After they came out of the refreshment-room 
vomelhing separated her from Miss Cambridge, who 
had not proved as much interested as Barbara had im- 
agined she might be ; and again she was left to herself. 
l'*or the first time during the evening she began to no- 
tice that she was attracting considerable attention. 
Standing in a corner by the door of the conservatory, 
she could not help hearing some one say: "Mrs. 
\'ane has no right to go such lengths. It is the last 
time I accept any of her invitations. The idea of in- 
viting hired girls to gatherings like this ! It is simply 
an insult to all the guests." 

"But the girl seems well-behaved enough," said a 
male voice. 

"Very pretty, too," said another. 

"It may be, but it's no place for her. It's an un- 
heard-of thing for Mrs. Vane to do. She's done some 
very qucr things, but this is the worst." 

"I don't know," spoke up a voice that Barbara 
recognized as belonging to Mr. Somers. "A well-be- 
haved 'hired girl* is less objectionable than a drunken 
count. That's what we had at Newport last winter 
at the Lyndhursts'. But then, I suppose he 'knew his 
place' all right." 

Barbara found an opening, and moved away. The 


/loff.v TO skrvf:. 

rest of the evening she was conscious of being largely 
let alone. There was no coarse or vulgar objection to 
her; but very many of Mrs. Vane's guests showed 
their feelings in a way, several of them said after- 
wards, so that Mrs. Vane would know how far she had 
mistaken her ov i place in society. 

As the guests began to leave, Barbara nervously 
went to Mrs. \*ane to say good-night, and found Mr. 
Morton with the Dillinghams just saying farewell 
at the door. Mr. Morton bowed gravely to Barbara 
as he said good-night to Mrs. Vane and went out, 
Miss Dillingham taking his arm as they passed down 
the steps. 

"I am going to ride." Mrs, Dillingham said to Mrs. 
\'ane, a.s she waited in the hall. "The carriage is just 
coming around. I told the young folks to go on. It 
is a beautiful evening for a walk." 

Barbara walked back into the sitting-room, and sat 
down by the table of prints and turned them over 
silently. When the guests were all gone, Mrs. Vane 
came in. 

"What! you here. Barbara? I thought you had 

"No, I wanted to talk with you a little while," said 
Barbara with an effort. 

A rnvr. ffERv.wT if* a lort*. 


"Why. I do believe you are almost crying." the 
old lady exclaimed, comitiij up to her quickly. "Have 
you had a trying evening? Tell me all about it." 

Barbara told her. and added .something more that 
made the sharp eyes soften and the abrupt manner 
change to one of great gentleness. 

"Don't worry, dear. It will all come out right, I 
know. Just go right on with your work. I under- 
stand it all perfectly. I'm old enough to be your 
grandmother, and I've seen some remarkable things 
happen. The Lord takes care of more things than 
we give Him credit for. We must trust Him when 
we are in all sorts of trouble. And yours isn't the 
worst, by any means. But it's too late for you to go 
home now. I'll send William over to tell "Mrs. Ward, 
if any one is up there, that you are to stay here to- 

So Barbara remained with the groat-hearted old 
soul that night, and in the morning she went back to 
her drudgery, sobered by the events of that eventful 
evening, and trembling a little because she had in- 
trusted her secret even to one so old and so loving 
as Mrs. Vane. But on the whole it comforted her. 
Under other circumstances she would have told no 
one but her mother. But Mrs. Clark was nervous and 


tiORy fo fi^kVE. 

irritable, she did not understand Barbara, and lived a 
daily protest against her choice of life-work. To 
learn now from Barbara that she had come to think 
a great deal of the brilliant young minister of the great 
Marble Square Church would have seemed to Mrs. 
Clark like another madness, and what Barbara needed 
at this crisis in her life was not reproaches or tears, 
but tacouragement and good-hearted affection. 

She was a girl who gave her own affection quickly. 
From the day she met Mrs. Vane she had understood 
her. It was the same with Mr. Morton. It is a mis- 
take to suppose that the greatest feelings must develop 
slowly. The feeling that Barbara experienced was 
not long in point of time, but she herself was the best 
judge of its strength. It is probable that she was 
afraid of its development in so comparatively short a 
time, and one way she took to ascertain the truth was 
to talk to Mrs. Vane frankly about it. Some things 
the old lady gave her that evening out of her own ex- 
perience reassured her as to her own heart. Barbara 
had been afraid that her apparently sudden giving up 
of her life as it faced this other life was wrong. There 
was a tremor in the thought of unseemly haste un- 
worthy of so sacred an event. 

But, as the days went by, she found it was not so. 



She did not know all. herself, but the experience that 
had come to her lent strength to her resolve to prove 
herself worthy of the faith he had said he had in that 
kind of a life, the life she had chosen. At the same 
time she faced with a gravity that was making her 
older than her years, the fact that the very nature of 
her position would make it impossible for her ever to 
realize an answer to her own heart from his. 

So it was with mingled feelings of ambition that 
Barbara took up the daily round again. The results 
of the evening so far as her own position was con- 
cerned were insignificant. Mrs. Dillingham kept her 
word, and called on Barbara's mother. She also sent 
a note to Barbara, inviting her to call ; and a little later 
she even included her in a quiet afternoon tea at her 


Barbara ought to have accepted these overtures, 

for they represented a good deal of courage on Mrs. 
Dillingham's part. Barbara regretted a little later that 
she had not gone. But she had at the time, after that 
one night at Mrs. Vane's, concluded that she had at- 
tempted a thing that was of no value. She would ap- 
proach the matter from another side. She was trymg 
to think it all out. and had many talks with Mrs. 
Ward and Mrs. Vane about it, when an event occurred 





that threatened to interrupt all her plans and prove 
a real and serious crisis in her life as a servant. 

It must have been three weeks after that evening 
at Mrs. Vane's when Arthur came home from college 
for a few days. He had not been in the house an hour 
before Barbara was annoyed by his attentions. They 
were so marked that his mother noticed it. Barbara 
was intensely indignant, and Mrs. Ward was much 
disturbed over it. In the afternoon, Barbara couM 
hear loud voices in the sitting-room ; and in the midst 
of it all Carl came out into the kitchen, crying and 
trembling, and saying that his mother and Arthur 
were quarrelling. Barbara, knowing what it was all 
about, could not help feeling relieved when the voices 
ceased ; and after a time Mrs. Ward came out and had 
a talk with Barbara, apologizing for Arthur and prom- 
ising that there would be no recurrence of the matter. 

Barbara listened in silence, and when Mrs. Ward 
was through she said, "Arthur never would have be- 
haved as he did if he had not been drinking." 

"Do you mean to say that Arthur drinks?" Mrs. 
Ward almost shrieked. The experiences of the morn- 
ing had given her one of her headaches. 

"He does. He drank when he was here last fall." 

"I can't believe it possible. He has nervous head- 



aches. He bathes his head in alcohol to relieve it. 
He has told me so many times," exclaimed Mrs. Ward 


"But I know he was drinking this morning, or he 
would never have behaved so. No gentleman would 
ever have spoken to me as he spoke, Mrs. Ward, if he 
hadn't been under the influence of liquor." 

Mrs. Ward lost her temper. Afterwards in quiet 
thoughtfulness. Barbara knew that her nervous tension 
was responsible for what she did. 

"It's not true ! You are too much given to think- 
ing of yourself. You are too good for your place." 

"Then, if I'm too good for my place, perhaps 1 had 
better not stay in it," spoke up Barbara in a sudden 
passion. But she was not an angel nor perfect, only 
a girl, worn out, perhaps, with the constant toil; and, 
at any rate, she was sorry for it the minute she spoke. 
"You can leave any time! The sooner, the bet- 
ter!" Mrs. Ward said. 

"I'm sorry," Barbara began. 

"You needn't say anything. The sooner you 
leave, the better. We have'all been worried to death 
over you ever since you came!" ejaculated Mrs. 
Ward ; and. bursting into a hysterical f\t of weeping, 
she retired to the lounge in the sitting-room. 

■' ♦ 



If Barbara had waited until the weeping was over, 
and then gone in and told Mrs. Ward she had decided 
not to leave until her week was out, Mrs. Ward wouM 
have apologized. But the quickest passion is rouscl 
by injustice; and Barbara, smarting under the lash 
of Mrs. Ward's nervous-headache tongue, went at 
once to her room, packed her things into her trunk, 
put on her hat, and turned to leave the house. Down 
in the kitchen she found Carl crying. 

"Where are you going, Barbara? Don't go away. 
I'm frightened, everything is so queer," he cried, lift- 
ing his arms to her. She took him up in her lap and 
kissed him. 

"Why, you're crying, too, Barbara. Everybody's 
crying. What for?"' 

"I'm going home, Carl. Your mamma thinks I 
had better go home." 

"Are you coming back?" 

"I don't know, dear," Barbara answered as she pi't 
the child down. 

"Don't go, Barbara,-' the child cried as she went 
out of the door. 

"Don't cry, dear Carl. Perhaps I'll come back 
again," Barbara turned and called out to the child, 
kissing her hand to him. 




S Barbara walked away from the Wards' that 
afternoon, she fully thought that her social 
experiment was finally over, and that she 
might as well write "Finis" to the dismal attempt she 
had made to solve even a small part of such a complex 
problem. But before she had covered the short dis- 
tance between the Wards' and her mother's, she ex- 
perienced a feeling of remorse that she had given way 
so miserably to her passion in the interview between 
Mrs. Ward and herself. She even hesitated at the 
corner before she started down the street leading 
home, as if she had some serious intention of going 
back to ask Mrs. Ward to receive her again. But h 
was only a moment's pause, and then she went on 
and entered the house, where she soon told her mother 
the whole story. There were tears on Barbara's 
cheeks when she finished. 

"I seem to be a total failure in every way, mother. 
I haven't even learned grace to control my tongue." 
"Neither has Mrs. Ward, from what you say," re- 
plied her mother with more spirit than was usual for 



her. "It seems to me she is the one who is most to 
blame. In fact, Barbara. I don't see how you couKl 
have done differently. She compelled you to leave'- 
"O, I don't know about that, mother. If I had 
not got angry— but it is all over now, anyway. There 
is no use for me to try any more," and Barbara broke 
down completely, crying hard. 

Her mother wisely let her have her cry out. and 
then said : "I can't help feeling glad it has all turned 
out as it has. You know I have never approved of 
your going out to service. You simply throw your- 
self away." 

"I don't know," Barbara replied sadly. "Some- 
how I cannot help feeling, mother, that I have failed 
to do what I ought to do, and that the regret over it 
will stay with me all my life. I began with a high 
purpose to accomplish something, and I have failed 

"You have at least tried your best." 
"No, mother, I don't think I have. I ought to 
have expected just such things as those that happened 
to-day. But it's too late to do anything now," she 
added with a sigh. "The question is, What am I to 
do? I expect it means going into Bondman's until 
I can get a school." 



Her mother tried to comfort her, but Barbara was 
more depressed over the situation than she had ever 
been in all her life. She had met her dragon, and had 
been completely routed. And she had even at one 
time thought contemptuously of the dragon ! But, as 
she went up to her room that night, she felt with great 
humiliation that the dragon had won and she would 
never again have the courage to look him in the face. 

The next day she sent over for her trunk; and, 
when the expressman brought it, he handed her a 
note that had been given him by Mrs. Ward. 

Barbara opened it in some excitement, thinking 
it might be a request to come back. But it was a 
scrawl from Carl, who had at diflferent times been en- 
couraged by Barbara to print real letters to his father 
and brothers. 

"Dear Barbara : I am very sorry you have gone. 
Won't you come back? I do not feel very well to- 
day. My head akes. If you will come back I will be 
good to you. Your loving CARL." 

When she had read this note, which Mrs. Ward had 
let Carl send, she sat down on her trunk and -ried 
again. It seemed all so dismal a mistake, such a 
waste of her life so far. She did not look forward to 
the future with any degree of hopefulness. It seemed 




as if all her high ambitions were destroyed and all <-[ 
her ideals swept out of her life. 

The next two days she spent in helping her mother 
with some sewing and in little duties about the house. 
In every moment of leisure from these duties her 
thought at once went back to her ambition to serve, 
and the more she dwelt upon it, the more hopeless 

she grew. 

It was the morning of the third day after she had 
left Mrs. Ward, and she was at work washing the 
breakfast dishes, when a note was brought to her. 
The reading of it sfirred her pulses as she stood in the 
kitchen and read : 

"My dear Barbara: Carl has been taken ill, and 
is a very sick child. He calls for you constantly. 
Can you come and see him? I do not dare ask if 
you will come to stay again, after my unkind words 
to you. But I am sure you will be willing to please 
Carl by coming to see him. The dear child is very 
ill indeed. MRS. RICHARD WARD. 

Barbara went out to the sittiu^-room at once, and 
showed the note to her mother. 

"Of course, I will go right over there," Barbara 
said as she put on her hat. 

"Will you stay if Mrs. Ward asks you to?" her 



mother asked with a tone which conveyed curiosity 
mingled with dissuasion. 

"I don't know." Barbara hesitated. "I don't think 
she will ask me to come back." 

"I think she will." replied Mrs. Clark. "And my 
advice, Barbara, is that you say no. I can't bear to 
think of you as finally becoming nothing but a serv- 

Barbara did not answer. She said good-by to her 
mother and started for the Wards'. On the way her 
mother's last words smote her again and again. 
"Nothing but a servant !" 

Was it, then, so low a place for a human being to 
fill_a place of service where the help rendered was a 
necessity to a family? Was this place in society so 
insignificant or so contemptible that it could be char- 
acterized as "nothing" but service? What was worth 
while, then, in the world? Was it worth more to the 
• orld to paint pictures, or sell dry-goods, or '^ 
school, or spend time in eating and drinking and 
dressing up for parties as so many rich and fashion- 
able people in society did all the time? Were these 
things more useful than the work she had been doing, 
of caring for the physical needs of a home so that it 
could develop in the strongest and best ways? 



Mrs. Ward met her at the door as she was about to 
ring the bell. She had evidently been looking for 
her out of the front window. 

"I'm so glad you liave come," she said, and in a 
few words she explained Carl's condition. She did not 
say a word about the scene between herself and Bar- 
bara, and Barbara did not introdu^ the subject. 

"Carl was taken down with t fever night before 
last. He has been steadily worse. Will you 
go right up and see him now?" 

Mrs. Ward led the way, and Barbara followed, 
feeling strangely depressed as if in anticipation of 
some great trouble. She sat down by Carl and the 
child knew her. 

"Little man," she said, using a term she had often 
given him, "are you glad to see Barbara? I am sorry 
you are not well. So sorry." 

"You come to stay?" asked Carl, speaking with 


"I'll stay with you awhile," Barbara answered, 
glancing at Mrs. Ward, who was standing at the foot 
of the bed. 

"I mean all the time, all the time," Carl repeated 


"If your mother wants me to," replied Barbara, 


who in the passage from home to the Wards' had 
really made up her mind to stay if she was asked. 

"O, I do want you to stay, Barbara!" cried Mrs. 
Ward suddenly. Then Barbara saw that she was 
worn out with the care of Carl for two nights and the 
housework in addition. 

"Mr. Ward has not been able to get a nurse yet, 
and— and— we have not begun to— look around for— 
a girl— Carl's sudden illness—" 

"I'll come back and help if you want me to," said 
I'.arbara quietly. All this time she had been holding 
Carl's hand. He clung to her with feverish strength. 

"And we'll have good times in the kitchen. And 
will you make me another gingerbread man like Mr. 
Morton, same's the one we made before? You know. 


"Yes. yes, little man, I will do anything for you. 
We'll have good times together again." 

"And you'll stay always, won't you, Barbara, 

always ?" 

"i'm going to stay, dear. Don't talk any more 
now," Barbara said gently. And Carl seemed satis- 
fied, dropping into a condition of stupor which the 
doctor who called an hour later regarded with grave 




While t! <■ doctor was attending to Carl and Mrs. 
Ward was anxiously standing by him. Barbara slippe.l 
down into the dining-room, and found matters in 
confusion as she had expected. The breakfast dishes 
were still on the table, the kitchen fire had gone out, 
and all the rooms down-stairs were in disorder. She 
quickly set to work to restore order; and, when the 
doctor had gone and Mrs. Ward had come down, Bar- 
bara had cleaned up the dishes and the dining-room, 
and had begun to set the kitchen to rights. 

Mrs. Ward stepped out into the kitchen; and, as 
Barbara was moving into the dining-room for some- 
thing, she suddenly threw her arms about her, and 
cried: "Vou don't know what it means to me to have 
you back again. We have had three miserable days. 
Carl is a very sick child. I am all worn out!" She 
then sat down and cried nervously. 

Barbara felt embarrassed at first in the role of com- 
forter. But she was quick to see how dependent Mrs. 
Ward had become. It was, after all, as woman to wom- 
an that they were related now in their common anx- 
iety for Carl. And Barbara tried to cheer the mother; 
by every word of encouragement she could think of 
while she busied herself with the necessary details of 
the kitchen work. 

A KiriUt:S IS IN HOVAL AS A I'AHUHt. l.*>3 

In the afternoon she went over to her mother's,^ 
and told her what her decision was. Mrs. Clark sadly 
consented, and did not make so strong an objection 
as Barbara had (eared. So the little trunk was carried 
again to the old room, and Barbara realized that her 
career had received a new beginning in some sense, 
she hardly knew how. One thing she felt very strong- 
ly, however. And that was that under the stress of 
need at the Wards' she was doing exactly the right 
thing in going back to her life of service there. What- 
ever the days migh't have for her of opportunity in 
ilie future for large service in the greater problem, 
it was to her mind very clear that her immediate duty 
lay within the circle of this one family that needed her. 
She realized this more and more strongly as the 
next few days brought to her and the family a new 
and sad experience. As Carl's condition grew worse, 
-he spent more and more of her time with him. Mrs. 
Ward secured a good nurse, but Carl cried in his 
delirium for Barbara, and she sat with him many hours 
of every day. She was with him_ when the end came 
which they had all come to know was inevitable. It 
will alway- be one of the comforting thoughis of Bar- 
bara's life that she won and held the love of this child. 
All that came to her long after. But, as this little 



life slowly breathed itself out in the early gray of 
*that morning, with the weeping father and mother and 
the two boys as they gathered around the bed, she 
felt a tender sympathy for them all as if she, too, had 
been one of the members of the family. Carl had in- 
sisted to the very last on clinging to his mother and 
to Barbara. Each woman held a hand as the child's 
soul went out of the ' ail body to God who gave it. 

Mr. Morton, who had been a frequent visitor at the 
house during the trouble that had come upon it, was 
sitting by Mr. Ward that mornihg. When the end 
finally came, he kneeled down by Mr. Ward's side. 
and Barbara was conscious that the minister's strong, 
right hand was laid in compassion on the bereaved 
father's hand as he prayed for consolation. 

"O our Father," he cried, and his voice brought 
a relief even in that moment of sharp sorrow to the 
family, "mercifully reveal to us the happiness of the 
soul thou hast just car^ht up into Thy bosom. We 
know he is sate in thy arms. Comfort us with the 
comfort which earth does not have to give ; take us 
also into the embrace of a love which gave an only- 
begotten Son for a dying and mourning world. The 
God of comfort bless this household. In the name of 
Christ, Amen." 


Two days later, after the funeral service, at which 
Mr. Morton was present as pastor and friend, Mrs. 
Ward broke down completely and went to bed, leav- 
ing the care of the house and the family upon Bar- 
bara. The girl bore up under the responsibility brave- 
ly. She was conscious of the fact that she wa* neces- 
sary to the comfort of a home. The bonds of her 
service rested lightly on her because she knew she was 
of use in the kingdom of God. 

The relation between Mrs. Ward and Barbara dur- 
ing those days of grief became very close and affec- 
tionate. Through all the older woman's nervous and 
even irritable ilhiess Barbara nursed and attended her 
with admirable patience, giving her the best possible 
care and trying to relieve her of every possible anxiety 
as to the affairs of the house itself. 

"You have been like a daughter to me, Barbara," 
Mrs. Ward said to her one day three weeks after Carl's 
death. "I do not know what would have become of 
us if you had not come back." Barbara was arranging 
her pillows ; and, as she stooped down over her, Mrs. 
Ward put an arm about Barbara's neck, drew her 
down, and kissed her. When Barbara raised her head, 
the tears shone on her face. 

"Service has been very sweet to me, Mrs. Ward, 




since I returned. I have liked to believe that I have 
been needed." 

"You have been a wonderful comfort to us. You 
are like one of the family since Carl's leaving us. We 
shall never forget how he loved you." 

"It will always be a very tender memory to me," 
Barbara replied and the tears of the two women 
flowed together, tears that brought comfort to them 
and at the same time united their sympathy for each 
other. • 

That evening, when Mr. Ward came up after his 
supper with Lewis (for Arthur had .rone back to col- 
lege), Mrs. Ward said, after expressing her thanks 
that she was recovering strength rapidly: "Richard, 
we owe Barbara a great deal for all she has done for us 
in our trouble. Isn't there something we can do to 
show it?" 

"We certainly feel gratefitl to her," Mr. Ward said 
with thoughtful eagerness. "What do you think we 
can do?" 

Mrs. Ward was silent a few moments. 

"There's that money Aunt Wallace left you in 

trust two years ago to educate Carl when he should be 

ready to enter college." Mrs. Ward's voice faltered. 

"By the terms of the trust the money can now be 


used for any benevolent or philanthropic purpose. I 
have heard Barbara mention a plan that niijjht suc- 
ceed if it were wisely carried out. She thinks that if 
a building were put up in Crawford and dedicated to 
the training of young women for domestic service, 
preparing them for competent cooks and housekeep- 
ers, that a great deal might be done to elevate the 
labor of the kitchen and bring intelligent American 
girls into it. What do you think ?" 

"I think it is highly probable. At any rate, any- 
thing is preferable to the condition of things we en- 
dured before Barbara came. Anything is worth try- 
ing that will by any possibility tend to help matters." 
"How niuch is Aunt Wallace's legacy?" 
"It amounts to about fifteen hundred dollars now. ' 
That would not go far toward such a building as Bar- 
bara probably has in mind." 

"No, but it would be a beginning, and I think I 
know where I could get more to go with it." Mrs. 
Ward was growing very much interested, and Mr. 
Ward was obliged to caution her against excitement ; 
so the matter was dropped there. 

But in a few days Mrs. Ward brought it up again 
\v, Barbara's presence. 

"I think something could be done with a properly 




equipped building," Barbara said in answer to a ques- 
tion put by Mrs. Ward. They had discussed the mat- 
ter several times before Mrs. Vane's invitation to Bar- 
bara to come to her evening gathering. Mrs. Ward 
had not yet hinted at any means for realizing such 
a project. 

"How much do you suppose such a building would 
cost?" Mrs. Ward asked, noting Barbara's growing 

"O, I've no real idea. Almost any amount. It 
would cost a good deal to maintain it, also. The great- 
est difficulty would be to secure a proper person for 

"And then the next thing would be to get -the girls 
to attend the housekeeping-school." 

"I think we could find plenty of girls." 

"I'm not so sanguine as you are, Barbara," Mrs. 
Ward answered slowly. "But Mr. Ward and I are 
willing to show our faith in such an attempt by giv- 
ing two thousand dollars towards the erection of such 
a building." 

She' explained to Barbara Aunt Wallace's legacy. 
and added that Mr. Ward had offered to put five 
hundred dollars more with it to mak it two thousand. 

"I think Mrs. \'ane and some of the other ladies in 


our church and society will give something, so that 
we can begin with a pretty good building and have 
enough to equip and run it. Suppose you go over and 
see Mrs. Vane some day this week, and have a talk 
with her about it." 

"I will," said Barbara tingling with eagerness. 
Something real and tangible seemed about to come to 
pass in her career. She grew excited as she thought 
of possibilities. A building of the kind she had 
dreamed of was not by any means an answer to the 
servant-girl problem, but it was at least a real thing 
and if the idea was properly worked out it might re- 
sult in great things. 

So she talked with herself as she sung at her work 
that afternoon and resolved to go over to Mrs. Vane's 
at once, and yet even in the midst of her growing 
excitement and her genuine interest in her career 
Barbara was not altogether free from a depression that 
had its origin in the best feeling she had ever known. 
This feeling was her love for the young minister, Mr. 
Morton. Barbara no longer tried to conceal from 
herself that he had become a real part of her life. The 
trouble in the Ward household had all tended indi- 
rectly to increase her admiration for him. With the 
tenderest sympathy he had entered into th»^ family'* 




grief. It was only natural that in the w-eks that fol- 
lowed Carl's death Mr. Morton should call frequently 
at the house where he had become such a familiar 
guest in college days. Scarcely a day passed when 
he did not drop in for a meal, or to spend part of an 


In one way and another Barbara met him a godl 
deal. He was always the same earnest, gentlemanly, 
kindly speaker and listener. Gradually in little mo- 
ments of conversation when Mrs. Ward was not able 
to come down, and Mr. Ward and Morton had lin- 
gered over a little talk on social questions after tea, 
Barbara had taken an unconscious part in the discus- 
sion. More than once she had with almost guilty 
haste gone out of the sitting-room after one of those 
important discussions in which she had revealed a 
part of her ambitions tc the young minister and Mr. 
Ward ; and in the midst of her work, as she finished 
some kitchen task, she reproached her heart for yield- 
ing to what seemed like a hopeless affection. But the 
girl's life was opening into full blossom under the spell 
of a power as old as the human race, as divine an in- 
stinct, as religious a hunger, as humanity rer knew. 
She was more than dimly conscious of all this, even in 
the midst of her self-reproaches. 


But the consciousness of her position as a house- 
bold servant and of his position as leader in the pulpit 
of the most influential church in Crawford was sharply 
painful. The gulf between them was not very deep 
personally. She was fully as well educated along lines 
of general culture. She was almost his equal in mat- 
ters of knowledge and perception. It was the social 
distinction that separated them. And, as the days 
went by and she felt more and more the mental stimu- 
lus of his presence and the attractiveness of his man- 
ner towards her, she shrunk from the thought of the 
suffering in the future which she was making for her- 
self in even allowing his life to become a part of hers. 

All this was in her mind as she went over to see 
Mrs. Vane that afternoon. The new plan proposed 
by Mrs. Ward and the gift of the money to make it 
practical appealed to her ambition, and she resolutely 
set herself to satisfy herself with the working out of 
her ambitions for social service, saying to herself, not 
bitterly but sadly : "Barbara Clark, there is no place 
for love in the life you have chosen. Ambition is all 
you have any right to." 

Ah ; Barbara ! Ts that as far as you have gone in 
the school of life ? There is nothing that can take love's 
place. For there is nothing greater in the kingdom of 


God. Ambition may keep you busy. It can never fill 

the place in your heart that God made to be filled. 

She found Mrs. Vane as nearly disturbed as she 
had ever seen her. Generally the old lady was the 
personification of peace. 

"What do you think?" was her greeting to Barbara 
the moment she entered the house. "Hilda has gone 
and got married ! To a worthless young fellow after 
two months' acquaintance. The first I knew of it was 
this morning. It seems he persuaded h?r to marry 
him about a week ago. To-day she says she must leave 
me to go and live with him. I don't blame her fo: 
that. but neither of them is fit t- be married. Hilda 
has no more idea of what it u us to make home 


Just then the bell rang, and Mrs. Vane went to 
the door. Barbara heard her talking earnestly to some 
one in the hall, and the next moment she came in, fol- 
lowed by Mr. Morton. 

"Miss Clark, Mr. Morton," said the old lady, who 
seemed to enjoy Barbara's sudden coloring. "Mr. Mor- 
ton thought he was interrupting some private confer- 
ence if he came in. I don't know what you want, my 
dear ; but I know Mr. Morton is interested in your 
plans, and he may be able to help in some way." 



Yes" replied Mr. Morton with a hesitation that 
Barbara had never noticed before in him, "I am truly 
interested in the problem Miss Clark is trying to work 
out. I don't know that I am competent to give advice 
in the matter. There are some subjects that even a 
voung preacher just out of the seminary does not dare 
to face. I think the servant problem is one of them. 
I came in this afternoon, Mrs. Vane, to see if you 
could help me in the new social-settlement work we 
are planning for Marble Square Church." 

"You want money out of me, young man. I see 
ii in your face." Mrs. Vane gave him one of her 
I sharpest looks. "Go to, now ! It's shameful for a fine- 
looking young fellow like you to come here and whee- 
dle a poor old woman like me out of her hard earned 
savings for your social experiments. Is that what 
j you've come after, too?" she suddenly asked, wheeling 
1 around toward Barbara. 

"Yes," replied Barbara, laughing with Mr. Morton 
I at Mrs. Vane's pretended anger. "I have no social 
settlements to beg for, but I want you to help me put 
up a building for training servants." 

Mrs. Vane looked from Barbara to Mr. Morton, 
I and rubbed her nose vigorously. 

"I believe you arranged this onslaught together. 



You conspired to combine your gowl looks and your 
blarney to rob mc of necessities for old age." 

•indeed \vc did not, Mrs. Vane," replied Morton 
with a seriousness that Barbara thought unnecessary, 
knowing Mrs. Vane's manner as she did. 'i know 
nothing of Miss Clark's plan. She came in first ; an 1. 
if she gets all your money for her work, I won't com- 

"Get all you can, my dear," said Mrs. Vane grim- 
ly, turning to Barbara, who with real enthusiasm told 
the story of Mrs. Ward's proposed gift and the possi- 
bilities of such a building if rightly managed. 

Mrs. Vane listened quietly until Barbara was 
through, and then said, "I'll give .on thousand 'lol- 


"Ten — ten— thou — " Barbara began trembling. 

"I might as well go ; you've got it all, Miss Clark. " 
said Morton, rising with mock gravity. 

"Sit down, sir!" said Mrs. Vane, while the sharp 
eyes twinkled at Barbara's confusion. "I sai"d ten 
thousand. T don't think it's enough. I'll make it 
more after the building is up. You will need cooks 
and teachers atul luis of help in every way. The tliin? 
will have to be endowed like a college. I see great 
possibilities in it. But I have never believed in scat- 



tcriiiK' eflFort. What is the reason this building for 
the traininjj of competent servants cannot be a part 
of tlie social settlement connected with the Marble 
Square Church? It is right in line with the rest of the 
things you propose, isn't it, Mr. Morton?" 

Morton looked at Barbara, and Barbara glowed. 
Then she cast her eyes on the floor. 

"Yes, I suppose such a building is in keeping with 
our social-settlement plans," Morton replied somewhat 
stiffly. "But Miss .Clark probably wishes to work out 
l,er — ^plans — independently." 

"There's such a thing as being too independent P 
quoth Mrs. Vane sharply. 

"I suppose there is," answered Barbara faintly, and 
then sat silent. The thought of being in any sense con- 
nected with Mr. Morton gave her a feeling of bitter 


"Well, think it over!" Mrs. Vane continued with 
what seemed like unnecessary sharpness. "I don't 
know but that I shall make the gift conditional on its 
»^eing used in the social-settlement plan. So vou 
needn't ask me for any money to-day, sir," she said, 
turning to Morton. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Vane. I know how to take a 
hint," he replied gravely. And then he caught Bar- 


JlOff.V TO ffEHYK. 

Lara's look as she glanocil up from the carpet, anl his 
tone niadc Harhara laugh a little nervously. He 
joined in it. ami Mrs. Vane kept them company. 

"I don't know what the joke is about," she said at 
last, as she rubbed her nose again as if in disai)poini- 

"It's just as well, perhaps," Morton said. "Some 
jokes cannot be explained, not even by the makers ui 


He seemed to make no motion to go, and after a 
few minutes more of general talk about the proposed 
house, during which nothing more was said about 
the settlement. Barbara rose and said she must go, as 
she had some work to do before tea-time. 

Mr. Morton instantly rose also. 

"May I walk with you, Miss Clark ? My calls take 
me your way." 

"Certainly," Barbara murmured, and they went out 


Mrs. \'ane watched them from the window as they 
went past. The old lady was still rubbing her nose 
in some vexation. 

'*If he isn't thinking a good deal more of her ilian 
of the social settlement just now, then I'll give twen- 
ty thousand towards it instead of ten," she said, and 

A KlTVllf^y 18 \^ lioYAl. IS .1 fWRt.OR. 


then added: "They couWa't . -her of Ur.m do better. 
And if he doesn't have »cn- enough to know what 
is good for him. 1*11 try to help him out." 

Barbara and Mr. Morton walketl down the street, 
talking about everything except the proposed build- 
ing and the social-settlement plans. After the first mo- 
ment of embarrassment at the thought of walking 
with him had passed, Barbara was relieved to feel 
quhe at her ease. She had never looked prettier. She 
had a gift of vivacious conversation. Mr. Morton was 
not her equal in that respect, but he was at his best 
when he had a good talker with him. They had just 
finished some innocent play at repartee and were 
laughing over it when, as they turned the corner to- 
ward the Wards, they met Mrs. Dillingham and her 


Instantly Barbara's face became grave, and Mr. 
Morton as he raised his hat seemed equally sober. 
The Dillinghams passed them with what seemed to 
Barbara unusually severe faces. The light of the after- 
noon suddenly went out. She was no longer a col- 
lege graduate, an educated young woman the equal, 
in everything but wealth, of this glorious creature she 
had just passed; she was only a hired girl, a servant. 
And the gulf that yawned between her and the mm- 



ister was too deep to be bridged. It was folly to be 
happy any longer. Happiness was not for Iwr; only 
ambition was left, and even that might not be possible 
if this social-settlement plan was to be involved in 
hers, and — 

'I beg pardon, Miss Clark, but did I hear you say 
the other night at Mrs. Vane's that you or your moth- 
er had known the Dillinghams before you came to 

Mr. Morton was coming to the relief of her em- 

"No, mother is related to one branch of the family. 
Mrs. Dillingham has been very kind to me since that 
evening," she added. "I have not been courteous, 
hardly, in response to her invitation." 

"It's a very nice family," Mr. Morton said quite 

"Yes, Miss Dillingham is a remarkably beautiful 
person, don't you think?" Barbara was not quite 
herself, or she w-ould not have asked such a question. 

"She is not as beautiful as some one else I know," 
replied Morton suddenly, and as he said it he looked 
Barbara full in the face. 

It was one of those sudden yieldings to temptation 
that the young minister in his singularly strong, ear- 



nest, serious life could number on his fingers. He 
regretted it the minute the words were spoken, but 
that could not recall them. Over Barbara's face the 
warm blood flowed in a deepening wave, and for a 
moment her heart stood still. Then, as she walked 
on, she was conscious of Mr. Morton's swiftly spoken 
apology as he noted her distress. 

"Pardon me, Miss Clark. I forgot myself. I — 
will you forget — will you forgive me?" 

Then Barbara had murmured some reply, and he 
had taken off his hat very gravely and bowed as he 
took leave of her, and she had gone on, with a flaming 
face and a beating heart. 

"He asked me to forget it? I cannot," she said as 
she buried her face in her hands up in her room, while 
the tears wet her cheeks. "He asked me to forgive 
it. Forgive him for saying what he did ? But it was 
not anything very dreadful." She smiled, then 
frowned at the recollection. "A silly compliment that 
gentlemen are in the habit of paying. But was it 
silly? or was he in the habit of paying such? Was it 
not a real expression of what he felt — " She put her 
hands over her ears, as if to shut out whispers that 
might kill her ambitions and put something else in 
their place. But, when she went down to her work 

1-0 liORX TO ffERVE. 

a little later, she could not shut out the picture of that 
afternoon. She could neither forget nor forgire. i ) 
Barbara ! If he could only know how his pica for for- 
giveness was being denied; and with a smile, not a 
f.own in the heart! 

The rest of that week Mr. Morton stayed away 
from Mr. Ward's although Mr. Ward had expecte.l 
him to tea on Friday. He sent a note pleading stress 
of church-work. Mr. Ward commented on it at the 


"Morton is killing himself already. He seems to 
think he can do everything. He won't last out halt 
his days at the present rate." 

"He needs a good wife more than anything else," 
Mrs. Ward said carelessly. "Some one ought to 
manage him and tell him what to do." 

"Yes, I suppose every woman in the church knows 
just the girl for him. an<l is ready to hint her name." 
Mr. Ward remarked. 

"If he marries any one in Marble Square parish, 
it will create trouble. It always does," said Mrs. 


"I think Morton has sense enough to look out for 

that," replied Mr. Ward briefly. 

Barbara heard every word as she was serving at the 



table, and feared lest Irer face might betray her. But 
Mrs. Ward, in whom Barbara had never confided, as 
she had in Mrs. Vane, did not detect anything; and 
Barbara found relief by retiring soon to her kitchen. 

The following Sunday she had an experience 
which added to her knowledge of the position she oc- 
cupied as a servant, and led up to the great crisis of 
her life, as she will always regard it. 

Since entering Mrs. Ward's family she had not 
attended evening service in any of the Crawford 
churches, owing to her desire to spend that time with 
her mother But on this particular Sunday following 
her interview with Mrs. Vane and her talk with Mr. 
Morton she decided that she would go out to the 
Endeavor meeting at the Marble Square Church. 
There was no other service after the Christian En- 
deavor meeting on this Sunday evening, as it was the 
custom one Sunday in every month to give the whole 
evening to the society and its work. The minister was 
in the habit of attending this service and giving it his 
special notice, sometimes by making a direct address 
on the topic of the evening, or by taking a part as- 
signed to him beforehand by the leader. 

When Barbara went in that evening, the large, 
handsome chapel of the Marble Square Church was 



rapidly filling up. The talented, earnest, handsome 
young preacher was very popular with the young 
people, and the society had increased rapidly in mem- 
bership and attendance since Morton's arrival. 

The usher showed Barbara to a seat about half- 
way down the aisle. As she sat down, she noticed Mr. 
Morton talking with a group of young people down in 
front. When they separated, he looked up and saw 
her, aod, coming down the aisle, he gravely shook 
hands, and then introduced her to the young woman 
next to her. He then went on to the door, greeted 
some of the members coming in, and then went 
around by a side aisle and sat down on a front seat 
just as the meeting began. 

It had been a long time since Barbara had attended 
a Christian Endeavor meeting. She felt that she was 
growing rather old for it, but to-night she enjoyed 
it thoroughly. When the time came for Mr. Morton 
to speak, she was surprised to find how her antici- 
pation of what he had to say was not spoiled by any- 
thing he said. It was all so manly, with such a genu- 
ine, real fragrance to it, so tinged with healthv h'j- 
mor, so helpful for real life, that it all helped her. She 
was grateful to him. Like the first sermon she had 
heard him preach, his talk to-night made her feel tl.e 



value of life and the strength of eflfort in God's world. 

Then suddenly, while she was looking at the ear- 
nest, eloquent face, the consciousness of the remote- 
ness of his life from hers smote her »nto despair. When 
the service was over, she did not want to remain to 
the quiet, social gathering that followed. But her 
neighbor to whom Morton had introduced her asked 
her to come into the little gathering of other visitors 
and strangers v.ho were being received by an introduc- 
tion committee and made welcome to the society, the 
committee giving all strangers topic cards and other 
printed matter belonging to the society, and intro- 
ducing them to one another as well as to members. 

It was one of the new methods pursued by this 
committee to ask all strangers to sign a little card 
giving the address of the newcomer, so that some one 
of the society might call during the week, and, if 
necessary, act as escort to the next meeting. One of 
these cards was given to Barbara ; and in a spirit of 
perversity, growing out of her feeling regarding her 
position, she signed her name and put under it the 
words. "House servant at Mr. Ward's, 36 Hamilton 

It was altogether unnecessary for her to be ostenta- 
tious with her position ; but she was not perfect, and 



felt an unnatural desire to test her reception riprht 
in Mr. Morton's own society. A few of the young peo- 
ple in the Marble Square Church knew who she was 
and what she was doing; and with a few exceptions 
she had been treated with great kindness, no discrimi- 
nation whatever being made. But the majority of the 
young people did not know her ; and to-night she was 
plainly dressed, her face was bearing marks of the 
weariness of the strain of the last month's work, and 
it was not surprising that she was suspicious of every 
suggestion of a slight. 

When the committee and the other strangers final- 
ly went out and mingled with the others in the large 
room, Barbara thought she detected a distinct coldness 
to her. She was certain her name and her position had 
been whispered around among the young people. As 
she afterward found out, she did the committee an 
injustice, as they had not told any one of her work: 
But she was left alone in the midst of all the others, 
and in spite of her habits of self-control and her pre- 
vious experiences she began to feel a bitterness that 
was contrary to her sweet nature. 

She looked around the room, and noticed Miss 
Dillingham talking with a group of older girls who 
had begun to comt into the society a little while after 



Mr. Morton's call to Crawford ; and she went over to 
her and spoke to her. 

And then it was that Miss Dillinj^ham, "Who was 
not perfect any more than Barbara, did as wrong a 
social act as she had ever done in her life. She simply 
nodded to Barbara without saying a word, and went 
on talking without introducing her friends to Barbara 
or taking any other notice of her. 

Barbara instantly stepped back away from the 
group, while her face glowed and then paled. As she 
turned sharply around to go out of the door which 
was near, Mr. Morton confronted her. He had wit- 
nessed the little scene. 

"You will always be welcome in our Endeavor So- 
ciety, Miss Clark," he said, while the color that 
mounted to his face was as deep as hers. 

"I shall never come again so long as I am a serv- 
ant!"' replied Barbara in a tone as near that of pas- 
sion as she had ever shown to him. And with the 
words she opened the door and went out into the 
night, leaving him standing there and looking at her 
with a look that would have made her tremble if she 
had lifted her face to his. 



HEN Barbara went out into the darkness 
after that scene with Miss Dillingham, it 
was more than the darkness of physical 
night that oppressed her. She thought she realizeil 
with a vividness more roal than she had ever before- 
experienced the gulf that separated her from the 
young minister of Marble Square Cnurch. With al- 
most grim resolve she said to herself: "I have 
dreamed a vain >.,eam. I will give myself up now to 
my career. Whatever ambition I have shall center 
about the possibilities of service. He can never be 
anything to me. It would risk all his prospects in 
life, even if — even if — he should come to care for 

me " Her heart failed at the suggestion, for there 

had been intimations on the part of the young 
preacher that Barbara could not help interpreting to 
mean at least a real interest in her and her career. 

"Piut no, it is not possible!" she said positively as 
she walked on. '"His life is dependent on social con- 
ditions that he must observe. For him to ignore 
them must mean social loss and possibly social dis- 



grace. The minister of Marble Square Church care for 
a hired girl ! Make her his wife !" Barbara trembled 
at the thought of the sacred word which she hardly 
whispered to her heart. "Even if she were as well 
educated and well equipped for such a position as any 
young woman in his parish, still, nothing could re- 
move the fact of her actual service." "And service," 
Barbara bitterly said to herself as she neared home, 
"service is no longer considered a noble thing. It is 
only beautiful young women like Miss Dillingham, 
who have nothing to do, who have the highest place in 
society. A girl who is really doing something with 
her hands to make a home a sweeter, more peaceful 
spot is not regarded by the world as worth more than 
any other cog in a necessary machine. Society can- 
not give real service any place in its worship. It is 
only the kisure of idle wealth and fashion that wins 
the love and homage of the world." 

"Ami the church too," Barbara continued in her 
monologue after she had bidden her mother good 
night and gone up to her room. "The church, too, in 
its pride and vainglory is ready to join the world in 
scorn of honest labor of the hands." She recalled all 
the real and fancied slights and rebuflFs she had en- 
dured in the church and from church people since go- 



ing out to service, and for a few minutes her heart wa> 
hard and hitter toward all Christian people. But 
gradually, as she gr€w quiet, her passion cooled, an \ 
she said to herself in a short prayer : "Lord, let me 
not oflfcnd by judging too hastily ; and, if I am to lose- 
out of my life my heart's desire for love, do not Ut 
me grow morose or chiding. Keep me sweet and un- 
complaining How else shall I help to make a bctti 
world?" A few tears fell as she prayed this prayer, 
and after a few minutes' quiet she fell more like her 
natural, even-tempered self. 

"If I am going to stay a servant," she said witn 
some calling back of her former habit, "T must learn 
what God thinks of service. I shall need all I can get 
out of His word to strengthen me in days to come." 
She had made a collection of lier passages relating tu 
service, and to-night she : '.('ed to it from one n 
Paul's letters, dwelling on the words as she read them 
aloud. "Servants, obey in all things them that are 
your masters according to the flesh; not with eye 
service, as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, 
fearing the Lord : whatsoever ye do, work heartily, as 
unto the Lord, and not unto men ; knowing that from 
the Lord ye shall receive the recompense of the in- 
heritance: ye serve the Lord Christ. For he that 



•locth wrong shall receive again for the wrong that he 
hath done : and there is no respect of persons. Mas- 
ters, render unto your servants that which is just and 
equal ; knowing that ye also have a Master in heaven." 
"Of course," Barbara mused after saying the 
words, "all this was Baid to actual slaves, whose bodies 
were bought and sold in the market like cattle. But 
what wonderful words to be spoken to any class of 
servants either then or now! 'Whatsoever ye do 
work heartily!' One thing that ser^rants lack in their 
service is heartiness. It is done for wages, not for 
love of service. 'As unto the Lord and not unto men.' 
How few servants ever think of that! The Lord is 
the real master. He is being served if what I do is 
a good thing that needs doing. 'There is no respect 
of persons.' How great a thing that i- ! In God's 
sight my soul is as much worth saving as any other. 
He thinks as much of me as He does of the rich and 
the famous. 'Masters, render unto your servants that 
which is just and equal.' If that were done, it might 
make conditions far different so far as the servant- 
girl question is concerned. But who will tell us what 
is meant by 'just and equal' to-day? Barbara she ik 
her head doubtfully, and went on. 'Knowing that 
ye have also a Master in heaven.' That helps me. 



Lilze |25 
■tt 1^ 122 








BOn\ TO ftERYE. 

Paul must have known my need as well as the need of 
the poor bond-servants to whom he wrote. 'A Mas- 
ter in heaven.' May He help me to serve Him in 
spirit and in truth." 

So Barbara the next day did not present the ap- 
pearance of the modern broken-hearted heroine in the 
end-of-the-century novel. Any one who knew her 
could plainly see marks in her face and manner of a 
great experience. But there was no gloom about her. 
no un-Christian tragic bewailing of fate or circum- 
stance. If she were to live her life as she supposed 
she should, without life's greatest help to live, so far as 
human love can go, she would at least live it bravely 
as so many other souls have done. And yet, Barbara, 
you know well enough that Ambition does not spell 
Love. And, in spite of all, you know your heart 
would tremble if the young minister of Marble Square 
Church should pass you and give you one earnest 
look out of his great dark eyes, as he did on that well- 
remembered day when he said that you were beauti; 
ful. Ah, Barbara ! Are you quite sure you have for- 
ever bidden farewell to the holiest dream of your 
womannood ? 

She busied herself during the day with her work, 
and in the evening went over to Mrs. Vane's to see 


her again concerning the proposed building. Sh« 
was eager to get to work. Her heart longed for busy 
days to keep her mind absorbed. 

Mrs. Vane suggested several good ideas. 

"While you are waiting to complete the details of 
the building itself, why not interview a large number 
of factory and store girls about their work? Find ott 
something about the reasons that appeal to young 
women for a choice of labor. You ar* not certain 
that you can get any girls to attend your training- 
school. I think you can, but very many other good 
people will tell you your plan is senseless. It is only 
when people begin to try to do good in the world that 
they discover what fools they are. Other people who 
never make an effort to better the world will tell them 
so. There will arise a host of tormenting cr!:ics as 
soon as the idea of your proposed training-school is 
suggested. They will tear it all to pieces. Don't 
pay any attention to them. The world does not owe 
anything to that kind of criticism. But it will help 
your plan if before the building is put up you can 
answer honest questions as to its practical working. 
There's another thing I would like to say ; and I shall 
say it, my dear, seeing I am old enough to be your 



"What's that?" Barbara asked, coloring. She an- 
ticipated Mrs. Vane's next remark. 

"I think it would be a distinct saving of power if 
in some way we could make the training-school a part 
of Mr. Morton's social-settlement work." 

"I don't think it is possible," replied Barbara in a 
low voice. Her manner expressed so much distress 
that the old lady said at once: "My dear, I will not 
say any more about it. But will you permit me to 
tell you plainly that I am firmly convinced that Mr. 
Morton is in love with you, and will ask you tp marry 
him, and you will have to give him some kind of a 
satisfactory answer, for he is not a young man to be 
satisfied with unsatisfactory answers." 

"Oh, I cannot believe it !" Barbara exclaimed, and 
then she put her face in her hands, while she trembled. 
"It's true!" the old lady said sturdily. "My old 
eyes are not so dim that I cannot see lov- talking 
out of other eyes And that is what his were saying 
when he was here last week. :My dear, there is noth- 
ing dreadful about it. I shbuld enjoy having you for 

my pastor's " 

"But it is impossible " Barbara lifted her 

head blushingly. 

"There is nothing impossible in Love's kingdom," 


replied the old lady gently. "If it comes to you, do not 
put it away. You are his equal in all that is needful 
for your happiness." 

Then Barbara told her all atout the event of the 
night before at the church. If she had been a Catho- 
lic, she would have gone to a priest. Being a Protes- 
tant, she confessed to this old lady, because her heart 
longed for companionship, and there was that quality 
in Mrs. Vane which encouraged confidences. 

When she was through, Mrs. Vane said : "There 
is nothing very hopeless about all this. He has cer- 
tainly never been anything but the nobk-hearted 
Christian g( ."nan in his treatment of you." (Bar- 
bara did not tell of the remark Mr. Morton had made 
about beautiful faces. But, inasmuch as he had 
apologized for a seeming breach of gentlemanly con- 
duct, she did not feel very guilty in withholding the 
incident from Mrs. Vane.) "And I really believe he 
feels worse than you do over any slights you received 
from the members of the church." 

Barbara was silent. Now that her heart was un- 
burdened she felt grateful to Mrs. Vane, but she nat- 
urally shrank from undue expression of her feeling'^. 
Mrs. Vane respected her reserve as she had encour- 
aged her confidence. 



"Don't be downhearted, my dear. Go right on 
with your plans. Count on me for the ten thousand 
and more if the plan develops as I think it will. And 
meanwhile, if in your trips among the working girls, 
you run across any one who can take Hilda's place, 
send her around. I haven't been able to find anybody 
yet. I would get along without help, but Mr. Vane 
wnll not allow it, with all the company we have. No, 
don't shake hands like men. Kiss me, my dear." 

So Barbara impulsively kissed her, and went away 
much comforted. She dreaded the thought that she 
might meet the young minister, and half hoped she 
might. But for the next three weeks Mr. Morton was 
called out of Crawford on a lecture tour which the 
Marble Square Church granted him ; and, when Bar- 
bara learned that he was gone, she almost felt relieved 
as she planned her work with Mrs. Ward's hearty co- 
operation to see as many working girls as possible for 
information, and to learn from them the story of their 
choice of life labor, and its relation to her own pur- 
pose so far as helping solve the servant question was 

What Barbara learned during the next three 
weeks would make a volume n itself. She did not 
know that she had any particular talent for winning 

wtJ (M.v.vor ciKxtsi: is all tuisus. 


confidences, but a few days' experience taught her 
that she was happily possessed of a rare talent for 
making friends. She managed in one way and an- 
other to meet girls at work in a great variety of ways. 
In the big department store of Bondman & Co., 
in the long row of factories by the river, in the girls' 
refreshment rooms at the Young Women's Christian 
Association, in the offices of business friends where 
the click of the typewriter was the constant note of 
service, in the restaurants and waiting-rooms about 
the big union station, in the different hotels aqd a few 
of the boarding-houses of Crawford, Barbara met rep- 
resentatives of the great army of young women at 
work in the city ; and out of what seemed like meager 
and unsatisfactory opportunities for confidence and the 
sharing of real purpose in labor she succeeded in get- 
ting much true information, much of which shaped 
her coming plan and determined the nature of her 
appeal to the mistresses on one hand, and the servants 
on the other. 

"With a few exceptions, then," she said to Mrs. 
Ward one evening after she had been at work on this 
personal investigation for three weeks, "all this army 
of girls at work represents a real need in the home 
somewhere. I found some girls working in the offices, 



and a very few in the stores and factories, who said 
they were working for other reasons than for neces- 
sary money. Here is a list of girls in Bondman's. I 
told them I did not want it for the purpose of printing 
it, and it is not necessary. But there are over two 
hundred of these girls who cannot by any possibility 
save any money out of their expenses, and a few o( 
them" — Barbara spoke with a sense of shame for 
her human kind and of indignation against un-Chris- 
tian greed in business — "& few of tuem hinted at 
temptations to live wrong live: in order to earn 
enough to make them independent. And yet all of 
these girls vigorously refused to accept a position 
offered to leave the store and go to work at double the 
wages in a home as a servant. I oflfered over fifty of 
these girls four dollars a week and good board and 
room at Mrs. Vane's, and not one of them was willing 
to accept it, even when, as in many cases, they were 
not receiving over three and a half a week, out of 
which they had to pay for board and other neces- 

"And the reason they gave was?" Mrs. Ward, 
who was an interested listener, asked the question. 

"They hated the drudgery and confinement of 
house labor. They loved the excitement and inde- 



pendence of their life in the store. Of course, they 
all gave as one main reason for not wanting to be 
house servants the loss of social position. Several of 
the girls in the factory had been hired girls. They all 
without exception spoke of their former work with 
evident dislike, and with one or two exceptions re- 
fused to ep*'" f?vir any proposition to go back to the 
old work. ; me of the girls in the Art mills will 

go to Mr." V . She worked for her some years 
ago, and liked her. But what can the needs of the 
home of to-day present to labor in the way of induce- 
ment to come into its field ? I must confess I had very 
little to say to the girls in the way of inducement. Not 
on account of my own experience," Barbara hastened 
to say with a grateful look at Mrs. and Mr. Ward, "for 
you have been very, very kind to me and made my 
service sweet; but in general, I must confess, after 
these three weeks' contact with labor outside the 
liome, I see somewhat more clearly the reason why 
all branches of woman's labor have inducements that 
house labor does not oflfer." 

"And how about the prospects for pupils for the 
training-school?" Mr. Ward asked keenly. He had 
come to have a very earnest interest in the proposed 



"Out of all the girls I have seen," Barbara an- 
swered with some hesitation, "only four have proiu- 
ised definitely thai they would take such a course 
and enter good homes as servants. One of these was 
an American girl in an office. The others were for- 
eign-born girls in Bondman's." 

"The outlook is not very encouraging, is it?" Mrs. 
V/ard remarked with a faint smile. 

"It looks to me, Martha," Mr. Ward suggested, 
"as if it might be necessary to put up a training-school 
for training our Christian housekeepers as well as 
Christian servants. If what Barbara has secured in 
the way of confession from these girls is accurate, it 
looks as if they are unwilling to work as servants be- 
cause of the unjust or unequal or un-Christian condi- 
tions in the houses that employ them." 

"At the same time. Richard, remember the great 
army of incompetent, ungrateful girls we have borne 
with here in our home for years until Barbara came. 
What can the housekeeper do with such material? If 
the girls were all like Barbara, it would be different, 
you know. 

"Well, I give it up," replied Mr. Ward with a sigh 
as he opened up his evening paper. ''The wliulc 
thing is beyond me. And Barbara, of course, will be 

ir^ cAyyoT choose in all TBisast. 


leaving us as soon as this new work begins. And 
ilicn farewell to peace, and welcome chaos again." 

"You are not going to leave us just yet are you, 
r.arbara?" Mrs. Ward ..sked with an affectionate 
glance at Barbara. 

"The house is not built yet," Barbara answered, 
returning Mrs. Ward's look. 

"Of course, Barbara will leave us when she has a 
home of her own," Mr. War' -aid in short sentences 
as he read down a part of page. "Then our re- 
venge for her leaving us will be the thought that her 
troubles have just begun when she begins to have 
hired girls herself." 

"I don't think there's any sign of it yet," Mrs. 
Ward said, looking keenly at Barbara who colored a 
little, "I have not noticed any beaus in the kitchen." 

"More likely to come in through the parlor," Mr. 
Ward suggested. And again Barbara looked up with 
a blush, and Mrs. Ward could not help admiring the 
girl's pure, intelligent face. 

There was silence for a moment while Barbara 
went over her list of figures and memoranda. 

"I see Morton is back from the West," Mr. Ward 
suddenly exclaimed, looking up from his paper. "The 
News says he had a remarkable tour, and nrints a 


Botfy TO RESvr:. 

large part of his recent address on the temperamo 
issue. I predict for him a great career. Marble 
Square never did a wiser thing than when it called hin. 
to its pulpit. My only fear is that he may kill him- 
self with these lecture tours." 

Thee was silence again, and Barbara beni her 
head a little lower over her work, whi»' lay on the 

"He is certainly a very promising young man," 
Mrs. Ward said, and just then the bell rang. 

"Shouldn't wonder if that was Morton himself." 
Mr. Ward exclaimed - he rose. "I asked him to 
come in and see us as soon as he came back. I'll g" 
to the door." 

He went out into the hall and opened the door, 
and Mrs. Ward and Barbara could hear him greet 
Mr. Morton, speaking his name heartily. 

"Come right into the sitting-room, Morton. We're 
there to-night. Mrs. Ward will be delighted to see 

Barbara rose and slipped out into the kitchen just 
as Mr. Ward and Morton reached the end of the 

S'.ie b d herself with something there for half 
an hour. At the end of that time she heard Mr. 

tr/? rAXXOT rnoofiR /.v all rnixas. 


Ward's hearty, strong voice saying good-night to 
Morton as he went out into the hall with him. 

J^'ter a few minutes Barbara came back into the 
sitting room and taking her list of names and facts 
from the table prepared to go up to her room. 

Mr. Ward was saying as she came in, "Morton 
seemed very dull for him, don't you think?" 

"He is probably very tired with his lecture lour 
It is a very exhausting sort of " 

The front door opened quickly ; a strong, hi m stejj 
came through the hall ; and Mr. Morton opened the 
sitting-room door and stepped in. 

"Excuse me, Ward, I left my gloves on the table," 
he began as he walked in. Then he saw Barbara, 
who had turned as he entered. 

"I'm glad to see you Miss Clark," he said as he 
picked up his gloves; and then he added, as he re- 
mained somewhat awkwardly standing in the middle 
of the room, "How is your training-school building 
getting on? I suppose it is hardly finished yet?" 

Barbara made some sort of answer, and Mrs. Ward 
added a word about what Barbara had been doing 
while Mr. Morton had been gone. 

Morton expressed his interest in some particular 
item of information given by Mrs. Ward, and told a 





little incident that had come under his own observa- 
tion during his lecture tour. 

Mr. Ward asked a question suggested by some- 
thing the young minister had said, and that seemed to 
remind him of a story he had heard on the train. Be- 
fore anyone realized exactly how it happened, Morton 
was seated, talking in the most interesting manner 
about his trip. He had a keen sense of humor, and 
some of the scenes he had v/itnessed while on his tour 
were very funny as he told them. Barbara found her- 
self laughing with an enjoyment she had not felt for a 
long time. She was delighted with Morton's powers of 
dramatic description and the apparently unfailing 
fund of anecdote that h-e possessed. She wondered 
at his remarkable memory, and her wonder was evi- 
dently shared by Mr. and Mrs. Ward who had long 
thought Morton a marvel in that respect. 

In the midst of a most interesting account of the 
way he had been introduced to a Western audience 
by a local character, a neighboring clock in one of the 
city buildings struck ten. 

Morton stopped talking and rose. 

"I had no idea it was so late. Pardon me." He 
said good-night somewhat abruptly, and started for 
the door. 



"You're sure you haven't left an>'thing this time?" 
asked Mr. Ward, 

"I have, though," Mr. Morton answered with some 
confusion, as he came back to the table and took up 
his hat, which he had dropped there when he took 
up his gloves. As he did so, he glanced at Barbara, 
who lowered her eyes and turned towards the kitchen 
as if to go out. 

"I get more absent-minded every day," he said 
somewhat feebly. 

"You need a wife to look after you," said Mrs. 
Ward with decision. She had picked up her work, 
which she had dropped in her lap while Morton was 
telling stories, and was intent on finishing it. 

Barbara opened the kitchen door, and went out 
just as Mr. Ward said with a laugh, "Probably every 
woman in Marble Square Church has some particular 
wife in view for you, and you will disappoint all of 
them when you finally make a choice without consult- 
ing them." 

"I probably shall," replied Morton quietly, and, 
saying good-night again, he went away. 

Mr. Ward was silent a few minutes, and then said, 
as if he had been thoughtfully considering a new idea : 
"Morton didn't seem at all dull or tired after cominjr 

i^i — 



back for his gloves. Have you thought that there 
might be a reason for it?" 

"No. What reason?" Mrs. Ward looked up sud- 
denly from her work, startled by Mr. Ward's manner. 
"I think he enjoys Barbara's company." 
"Richard Ward! You don't mean to say that 
Ralph Morton would marry Barbara!" 

"I not only think he would; I think he will," re- 
plied Mr. Ward quietly. 

Mrs. Ward was too much surprised at the unex- 
pected suggestion to offer a word of comment at first. 
The thought of such a thing was so new to her that 
she had been totally unprepared for it. 

"How would you like to have Barbara for your 
minister's wife?" Mr. Ward asked in the bantering 
tone he sometimes used. 

Mrs. Ward was on the point of replying a little 
sharply. But suffering had done its mellowing work 
in her life. Before Carl's death she would have re- 
sented as an unparalleled impossibility such a thought 
as that of the pastor of the Marble Square Church 
choosing for his wife even a girl like Barbara, his intel- 
lectual and Christian equal. But many things since 
Barbara's coming into the home had conspired to 
change Mrs. Ward's old habits. And, as Mr. Ward 



asked his question now, she saw a picture of Barbara 
and Carl as they had been one evening a few days be- 
fore the child's death. His little arms were about 
Barbara's neck, and his pale, thin cheek was lying 
close against hers. 

"If it should come to that," she finally answered 
Mr. Ward's question slowly, "I am sure there is one 
woman in the Marble Square Church who will not 
make any trouble." 

Mr. Ward looked surprised. But, as he went out 
into the front hall to lock the door for the night, he 
muttered, "A man can never tell what a woman will 
say or do when she is struck by lightning." 

During the week that followed Barbara spent all 
the time she was able to spare from her own work in 
securing facts connected with her proposed plans. 
Mrs. Ward herself went with her to several well- 
known houses in Crawford, and introduced her to her 
friends. In every instance Barbara found there was 
the greatest possible interest in the subject, but no 
two women seemed to agree as to any policy or plan. 
There was unanimous agreement on one thing ; name- 
ly, a need of capable, intelligent, honest servants in the 
house, who wfere to be depended on for continuous 
service, or for at least a period of several years that 


II ' t 



might be reckoned as continuous, the same as a busi- 
ness man could count on the continuous service in his 
employ of a competent bookkeeper or clerk who was 
necessary to the welfare of the business, but no more 
so than a competent servant in continuous service is 
necessary to the welfare of the home. 

"Tlie trouble is," one woman after another would 
say, "in the girls themselves. They do not have any 
ambitions as a class. They do not wish to be taught. 
They resent advice. They are ungrateful for nearly 
all favors. They do not thank anybody to try to im- 
prove their condition. We are tired of constant ef- 
forts made to solve an unsolvable problem with the 
material that must be used." 

Still, in spite of all discouragements, Barbara 
bravely determined to go on, and her next effort was 
directed toward the girls who had expressed a willing- 
ness to go into service in the home instead of the store 

and factory. 

She managed to call all these together Saturday 
evening at her own home and with her mother helping 
her she made a pleasant evening, serving some light 
refreshments and entertaining the girls with music 

nnd pictures. 

There were eight of them in all. Two of them had 



had a little experience at house service. None of 
them, Barbara found on questioning, was really com- 
petent to manage the aflfairs of a household. Two 
were American girls who had hved on farms, and had 
come into Crawford to accept small places at Bond- 
man's. Their experiences there had not been pleas- 
ant, and they were ready to try something that prom- 
ised at least a temporary financial relief. 

Barbara gave a little impromptu talk before the 
girls went home, and ended it by asking the girls to 
ask questions or talk over in a general way the pros- 
pects of housekeeping service as she had described 
it to them. 

"Do you think, Miss Clark, from your own ex- 
perience, that the hired girl's loss of social standing 
is the one great obstacle to the settlement of the ques- 
tion of service?" one of the American girls asked. She 
was a brViit-looking girl, evidently a lover of fine- 
looking dresses, and, as Barbara had discovered, with 
habits of extravagance far beyond her little means to 

Barbara hesitated a moment before she answered. 

"Yes, I think perhaps that is the most serious fac- 
tor in the problem. I don't consider ii; unanswerable. 
I believe that Christian housekeepers and Christian 



servants can find an answer that will satisfy them 


"I think the irregular hours are the hardest part ot 
houses rk," said one of the girls, an honest-faced 
German, somewhat older than the others. "I worked 
two years for a family in the West, and some days I 
did not get through with my work until nine and even 
ten o'clock at night. One reason I have liked the 
store is because the hours of labor have been regular. 
I know just exa tly how long I have to work. But I 
cannot earn enough where I now am. I saved over 
one hundred and fifty dollars one year when I was 
working out at four dollars a week." 

"It's the dirty work that I don't like," spoke up a 
careless-looking girl whom Barbara had found in the 
bundle department at Bondman's. Barbara did not 
know just what it \;as that had drawn this girl to her ; 
but something had done it, and there was something 
very attractive about Barbara to the girl, and she had 
expressed a certain readiness to learn the work of a 
• servant so as to he competent. 

"That never troubled me any," said the neatest 
girl of all. "My trouble was caused by not knowing 
how to do the work satisfactorily. I found I did not 
know how to plan for the meals and cook them prop- 



erly. One of my friends, who was in the next house, 
was a splendid cook and manager. It was a large 
family, but she seemed to throw the work of! easily 
because she knew how to plar t right." 

"That's it!" Barbara spoke eagerly. "Is it any 
wonder that so many women complain at the troubles 
they have with servants when so many of them have 
no experience, and yet claim as high wages as if they 
had ? A bookkeeper would not expect to get and re- 
tain a place in a business firm if he did not understand 
the business of leeping books ; yet the housekeepers 
tell me that girls are continually coming into their 
houses, claiming to be competent for the work when 
in reality they do not know anything about it. It is 
necessary for the girls to put themselves in the places 
of the housekeepers, and ask, What should I have a 
right to expect from a girl who came into my house 
as a servant?" 

"There's another thing I hear other girls com- 
plain about," said one of the older of the company. 
"They say that in most families the scale of wages 
paid to servants never changes. They say they never 
get any more a week after years of working out than 
they got when they begun, I know one girl who has 
been with one family five years. The first year she 



had two dollars and seventy-five cents. The thin! 
year tlicy increased her wages to three and a half for 
fear of losing her, and they have remained at that 
figure ever since. Girls who work cut do not have 
the ambition to get on that young men in a business 
firm have. They cannot look forward to a better con- 
dition or higher pay." 

"That isn't true in some families I know," replied 
Barbara. "I know some people in Crawford who of- 
fer increased wages for increased ability or length of 
time the girls stay with them. Of course, we have to 
remember that most people who hire labor for the 
house claim that tliey can aflford to pay only about 
so much for such work. The woman who lives next 
to Mrs. Ward complains because Mrs. Ward gives me 
four dollars and a half a week. The other woman 
says she is unable to pay so much ; but all her girls, 
when they hear what I am getting, want as much, 
whether they are capable of earning it or not. Then, 
because she cannot pay it, they become dissatisfied 
and leave her. I am afraid Mrs. Ward has made an 
enemy out of a neighbor on my account, by paying me 
what she thinks I am worth." 

"Doii't you think you are entitled to the four and 
a half?" asked the careless-looking girl. 

WK cAyyoT cnooffE /v all ratyos. 


"Indeed I do," replied Barbara, laughing. "I 
think I earn every cent of it." 

"Then I don't see what right the other woman has 
to find fault with Mrs. Ward for paying it." 

"I don't, either," said Barbara frankly. "But per- 
haps the whole question of wages belongs to the 
question of ability. I don't think though, that we 
need to talk so much about that as about the need of 
a true thought of what service means. There is 
practically no ideal of service in the minds of most 
girls to-day. To serve is to follow Christ, who was a 
servant. To serve a family, to minister to its neces- 
sary physical wants, to do drudgery in the name of 
God, to keep on faithfully every day in the line of 
duty, working cheerfully, heartily, washing dishes 
clean, sweeping rooms without shirking, learning the 
best ways to prepare food for the household— all this 
is a part of a noble life, and it is this thought of the 
dignity and nobility of service that is lost out of the 
world to-day. It must be recovered before we can be- 
gin to solve the question. There must be on the part 
of the mothers and housekeepers and on the part of 
the girls who consecrite themselves to home ministry 
a real thought of the real meaning of a servant's place 
in the economy of life. The homes of America must 




learn to sanctify and beautify the labor of the hands. 
Not until our social Christianity has learned the lesson 
of ministry, and learned that it is as noble to minister 
in the kitchen as in the pulpit, not until then shall we 
begin to have any answer worth having to the ques- 
tion of service in the home." 

Barbara stopped suddenly and then said with a 
smile at the little group : "But this is a long sermon 
for Saturday night, and see how late it is ! I can't 
ask you to stay any longer. But I want you to come 

The careless-looking girl was the last to say good- 
night. As she shook Barbara's hand strongly, she 
said, "I don't think the sermon was too long. Miss 
Clark. I don't go to church on Sunday, and I need 
preaching. I think maybe I owe yc- more than you 

To Barbara's surprise the girl suddenly threw her 
arms about her neck and kissed her. There was a 
tear on her cheek as she suddenly turned and went 
down the steps and joined the others. 

"If I have such an influence over that soul, my 
Lord," prayed Barbara that night, "help me to use it 
for her salvation." It was already becoming a sweet 
source of satisfaction to Barbara that the ambition of 


her life was beginn.ig to mean a saving of :ther lives. 
She was only yet dimly '-onscious of her great in- 
fluence over othtr girls. 

The next clay was Sunday, and she r.»membered 
her fgolish remark to Mr. Morton. During all his 
absence she had not been to the Marble Square ser- 
vices. She had attended elsewhere, but had not been 
out in the evening, going to her mother's and spend- 
ing tbe evening reading to her. She had at present 
Rev. F. B. Meyer's book, "The Shepherd Psalm," and 
both mother and daughter were enjoying it very much. 
She was reading the last chapter, and even as she 
read she remembered that this was the night when the 
Christian Endeavor society at the Marble Square 
Church had the entire service. There was no preach- 
ing after the Endeavor meeting, which closed about 
eight o'clock. 

It was half-past eight as Barbara finished the • 
tiful narrative, and her mother had thanked her . -i i 
made some comment on the clearness of the style and 
its spiritual helpfulness, when the bell rang. 

They Uad so few visitors, especially on Sunday, 
that they were startled by the sound. But Barbara 
rose at once and went to the door. 

When she opened it, she uttered an exclamation 



uf astonishment. For Mr. Morton was standing thori> ! 
His face was pale and even stern, Barbara imagined, 
as he stood there. 

"May I come in?" he said quietly, as Barbara stool 
still. "I want very much to see you and your mother." 

Barbara murmured a word of apology, and then in- 
vited him to enter. Mrs. Clark rose to greet him, and 
the minister took the seat she proffered him. 



JR. MORTON broke a very embarrassing 
silence by saying in a very quiet voice, al- 
though his manner showed still the great 
excitement that he evidently felt, "Mrs. Clark, I have 
no doubt you are greatly surprised to see me here." 

"It is a greai pleasure, I am sure," Mrs. Clark 
murmured. Barbara had turned around so that the 
young minister could nol see her face as she sat partly 
concealed behind the lamp on the table. It was very 
still again before Mr. Morton spoke. 

"You know, of course, that I have no preaching 
service to-night. I have just come from my young 
people's n.eeting, I " 

He paused, and Mrs. Clark looked attentively at 
him and then at Barbara sitting with head bowed and 
cheeks flushed, and a gleam of sudden perception of 
the truth began to shine out of the mother's face as 
she turned again toward the minister. Barbara had 
never confided directly in her mother, but Mrs. Clark 
had been blessed with a remarkably beaujtiful and true 
love experience in her own girlhood, and with all her 



faults and misunderstanding of Barbara during the 
trial of her experiment with Mrs. Ward she had in 
various ways come to know that Barbara had grown 
to have much interest in the brilliant young preacher. 
Barbara had probably made a serious mistake in nut 
giving her mother a frank confession. But Mrs. Clark 
had never really supposed until now that the minister 
might have a feeling for Barbara. She began to feel 
certain of it as she rapidly noted Mr. Morton's evident 
agitation and the look that he gave Barbara as he 
stopped suddenly. 

"We are very glad to see you, I am sure," Mrs. 
Clark said, coming to his rescue. Through the mem- 
ory of her own sad loss and all her recent trouble rose 
the sweet picture of her husband's wooing. If Bar- 
bara's happiness for life now consisted in her possiI)le 
union with this good, strong man, Mrs. Clark was not 
the mother to put needless obstacles in the way. In 
this matter her mother had a certain largeness of char- 
acter which Barbara did not at that time compre- 

Mr. Morton had grown calmer. He began to talk 
of matters belonging to his church and his plans for 
the social settlement. Gradually Barbara recovereii 
herself from the first moment's panic. She came out 



from behind the defence of the lamp, and began to ask 
questions and take part in the conversation. 

"But still," she was saying after half an hour's talk 
had been going on, "I do not quite see how you are 
going to interest Crawford people in the plan you sug- 
gest until you have made a practical beginning, even 
if it is on a small scale. The people are very conser- 

"That's true." The minister sighed a little. "But 
I do not see how you are going to interest the public 
in your servant girl's training-school until you have 
demonstrated its practical usefulness. I don't doubt 
its wisdom, of course," he added quickly. "But it must 
require a good deal of courage on your part to make 
a beginning in view of what you know must be the 
criticism and prejudice that are inevitable." 

"As far as courage goes," said Barbara frankly, "it 
seems to me you have much more than I. With the 
money Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Vane have promised me, 
I shall be quite independent to work out my plan as 
I please. Whereas you are obliged to overcome the 
prejudice of a whole church full of people, many of 
whom do not believe in social-settlement work con- 
nected with the church." 

"I wish there was some way," Mr. Morton ex- 



claimed eagerly, absorbed in thought of his plans, 
"in which we could combine your plans and mitii. The 
training-school would fit in so beautifully with my 

He spoke in his enthusiasm, for the moment, 
thinking only of the plans as existing apart from the 
persons. But, as Barbara lifted her face to his and 
then dropped her eyes, while a great wave of color 
swept her cheeks, he realized how personal his excla- 
mation had been. 

And just at that juncture, Mrs. Clark, without a 
word of apology or explanation, rose and walked out 
of the room. Morton blessed her as he shut the door. 
There are some things in the love chapter of youth 
that cannot be told except to the heart of youth itself. 

He went quickly over to where Barbara was seated 
on the other side of the table, and before she had time 
to be frightened he said, looking at her with love's 
look : "Barbara, I love you, and want you to be my 
wife and share all with me. Will you?" 

Barbara sat all in a tumult, her heart beating fast, 
as in a dream wondering at it all. And it sounded 
very sweet to her. For she loved him truly. But she 
saitl, as she stood by the table looking at him : "But — 
I — cannot. It would be " 



Tell me, Barbara," he said, a sudden smile light- 
..jj- his pale face, and his use of her name was again 
music to her, "tell me only one thing first. Do you 

love me?" 

"Yes!" she cried, and it seemed to her as if one 
person in her had spoken to another, compelling the 
answer; and the next moment, she could not realize 
how, but it was like a world's life to her, his arms were 
about her, and in that moment she knew that for bet- 
ter, for worse, she had put her life into the lot of shar- 
ing with his. 

Lovers do not count time like other people. After 
a while he was saying: "But tell me. Barbara, how I 
am to make my peace with Mrs. Ward. For, when 
she learns that I am going to get her hired girl, she 
will never forgive me." 

Then Barbara's face grew grave. 

"Do you realize, Mr. IMorton, what you have done ? 

Can a young man with your position and prospects 

af!ord-to--to-marry a 'hired girl'? Oh if you had 

not compelled me to say, 'Yes' so soon! I might have 

saved you from making the mistake of your life " 

"Barbara," he answered, with sudden sternness 
that was assumed, without answering her questidn. 
"If you ever call me 'Mr. Morton' again, I shall " 






he left his threat unfinished ; but he had possession of 
her hand as he spoke, and Barbara looked up at him 
and said softly, "What shall I call you ?" 

"Say ." 

"Yes. What?" Barbira *.:ked innocently, as he 

"Will you repeat after me ?" 

"Yes," she replied incautiously. 

"Well then," he went on joyously, "say : 'Ralph, I 
love you more than any one else in the world. And I 
will walk with you through life because I love you — 
because we love each other.' " 

"You have taken advantage of me !" she exclaimed 
brightly, and then, with glowing face looking into his, 
she repeated the words, whispering them. And, when 
.she had finis.hed, they were both reverently silent, 
while her eyes were wet vvith tears of solemn joy. 
They did not either of them realize all they had 
pledged to ea,ch other; but the God-given, human- 
divine spell of love was upon them, and the blessedness 
of it swallowed up all fears of the future. Once Barbara 
had given herself to him, it meant an end of doubt or 
fear. Sh'» might discuss vvith him the probable results 
to Ills social or professional standing, but she would 
never torture his mind or distress her own by vain re- 

UlfflSfTRV !f! DIVIXE. 


ji'-ets or foolish anticipations. The great truth of their 
love for each other filled them both. 

They were so absorbed in their talk that they did 
not hear Mrs. Clark when she came into the room. 
Then Mr. Morton was suddenly aware of her presence, 
and he instantly rose and went over to her. 

"Mrs. Clark," he said, "I took advantage of your 
absence to take your daughter from you. But I will 
try to make up for it in part by giving you a loving 
and dutiful son, if you •will accept me as such." 

Without waiting for her reply, which he easily read 
in her smiling face, he turned to Barbara who had 
come to his side. 

"What did you say, Barbara?" Mrs. Clark asked 
as she faced them both, thinking to herself that she 
had never seen so nmch real joy in tw ; faces anywhere 
in the world. 

"Oh mother!" baia cried, "I have given him 
my answer." She i .er head on • ' mother's breast 
as she used to do when she was a little girl, and Mrs. 
Clark felt with the painful joy of a good mother's heart 
that the world's old story had come into her daughter's 
life, and that henceforth this man had become to Bar- 
bara all in all without displacing the mother from her 
rightful share of aflfection. 




They had many things to say now, and neither 
Barbara nor Mrs. Clark offered serious objections to 
the earnest request of the young man that the period 
of engagement might be a brief one. 

"We U iow our minds quite well, I am sure," he 
said, while Barbara, blushing, nodded yes. "It will be 
best in every way for us to begin our home very soon. 
Barbara, you will have to give Mrs. Ward notice that 
you must leave. Poor Mrs. Ward ! She is the only 
person I am sorry for right now." 

They were all silent for a moment. Then Mr. 
Morton said, "The servants' training-school will have 
to be a part of the social settlement now. You've lost 
your independence." 

"I've gained something better," said Barbara 
gently. Her love knew no restrictions, now that it 
was returned, and her heart leaped up to his in all his 
ambitions for helping to make a better world. 

When he rose to go, Barbara went to the door with 
him. He had opened it, and was about to step out, 
when he turned and said with a laugh, "I have for- 
gotten my hat." 

The missing hat was not found at once, and Mrs. 
Clark unblushingly said, "Perhaps it is in the sitting- 
room," and walked deliberately out there. 

MINISTRY 18 niriyE. 


The hat was lying on a chair behind the table. The 
minister took it up and walked to the door agfain. Then 
he turned and said, while Barbara looked up at him, 
"I forgot something else," 

Then he stooped and kissed her, and went out into 
the night, and it was like the glory of heaven's ibright- 
ness all about him, while Barbara turned and again 
met her mother with an embrace where both min- 
gled their tears over the divine romance of this earthly 
life. God bless the repetition of the pure love chapter 
in human hearts. Wh: it is deeply Christian as in 
the case of Barbara and Ralph, it is approved of 
Christ and has the sanction of all heaven. 

When Barbara began her work at the Wards' next 
day, she had a natural dread of breaking the news to 
Mrs. Ward. But that lady unconsciously made a good 
opportunity. She came into the kitchen early in the 
forenoon, and was struck by Barbara's beauty. She 
had noted it many times before, but this morning the 
girl's great love experience had given her face an ad- 
ditional charm. It is no wonder Ralph Morton fell 
in love with her. He said it all began from that Sunday 
when he first met her at the M.arble Square Church. 
"Why Barbara," I^Irs. Ward exclaimed, "you look 
perfectly charming this morning. How do you man- 



age to keep looking so lovely? It is a wonder to me 
that the kitchen is not full of beaus all the time!" 

Uarbara laughed lightly. "I don't want a kitchen 
full of beaus. One is enough." 

Mrs. Ward looked at her attentively. Then she 
said somewhat gravely: "Did you say one is enough? 
What does tuat mean?" 

"It means — O Mrs. Ward, I am so happy!" She 
turned to her, and the older woman trembled a little 
and then said, "It is Mr. Morton?" 

"Yes," cried P.arbara, and Mrs. Ward put her arms 
about her and kissed her. Then she stepped back, and 
looked at her somewhat sorrowfully. 

"I'm glad for you. of course, but what are we go- 
ing to do? It's always the way. The best girls I have 
always go and get married. But I never thought un- 
til lately that you would do such a thing. Why, it's 
like a story, Barbara. If it was in a book, people 
would think it was quite improbable. ' '^e idea !' they 
would say, 'of the brilliant young preacuor of Marble 
Square Church, Crawford, the gifted young writer and 
lecturer, marrying a hired girl in his own parish ! 
II.ivc yon thought, Barbara, of the sensation this event 
will make in Marble Square Church?" 

"Of course I have not had much time yet to think 


of it, Mrs. Ward. If Mr. Morton, Ralph," she added 
shyly, blushing at her use of the name before another 
person, "if he feels satisfied, the church ought not to 
give any trouble. Why should it? Do you thihk it 


"You're a hired girl in the eyes of most people 
in the church. They do not know you as I do. I am 
afraid it will make trouble for Mr. Morton." 

For a moment Barbara's radiant face showed signs 
of anxiety. Then to Mrs. Ward's astonishment she 
said with a smile : "I am not going to borrow trouble 
over it. I love him too much to be afraid of any- 

"If only people knew you as Mr. Ward and I 
do—" Mrs. Ward faltered, tears in her eyes, caused by 
affection for Barbara and sorrow at the thought of 
losing her out of the home. "You know what a wel- 
come Mr. Ward and myself and Mrs. Vane and a few 
others will give you. But I don't know what Mrs. 
Rice and Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Brown will say." 

"Do you know—" Barbara spoke, not flippantly, 
but with a sense of happy humor which was a real 
part of her healthy nature, "Do you know Mrs. Ward, 
I am afraid I am not quite s« much in fear of what 
Mrs. Rice and Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Brown will say 



as I ought to be ? I am not going to marry them, but 
— but — some one else." 

Mrs. Ward looked at her doubtfully. Then she 
smiled at her and said : "You must be very much in 
love. Barbara. The old adage, 'Love laughs at lock- 
smiths,* will have to be changed to 'Love laughs at 
Marble Square Church.' " 

"I don't laugh at it. Mrs. Ward. Dut honestly, I 
do not feel to blame, and I am not going to anticipate 
trouble. That would not be right towards him, for I 
know he counted all the cost before he asked me to 
share all with him." 

Blessed be love like Barbara's! Truly can it be 
said of such love, it "beareth all things, believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love 
never faileth." 

When Mr. Ward came home at night, he soon 
learned the news. Barbara had no silly or false senti- 
ment, and she had agreed . Mr. Morton that the 
fact of their engagement and near marriage need not 
be kept secret from any one, even for a short time. 
So Mrs. Ward told her husband. He was not sur- 
prised. He had anticipated it. 

"Yes, you're going to leave us, just like all the 
rest," he said in his bantering fashion, when Barbara 


MIMSTRY la />/»7A'fc'. 


came in with some dishes to set the table. Mr. Want- 
was in the reading-room, and Barbara stepped to the 
door and greeted him. "One of the rules of your new 
training-school ought to be, 'No girl who graduates 
irom this school to go out to service shall be allowed 
to get engaged or married for t least five years.' What 
if, going to become of all the competent girls if they 
all follow your bad example?" 

"I'm sure I don't know," Barbara answered de- 

"Won't you and Morton take us in to board when 
you begin housekeeping? I'm so used to your corn- 
bread muffins and coffee for breakfast that x know I 
shall never be able to put up with any other kind." 

"I don't know," Barbara replied, laughing. "It 
is possible that we may have a hired girl ourselves.'" 
"Do you think so?" Mr. Ward said with pre- 
tended joy. "Then Mrs. Ward and I shall have our 
revenge on you for - verting us, for you will then 
have the agony of the «=':rvant-girl problem on your 
own hands and know how it is from the other side of 

the house." 

"Perhaps that is one of the reasons I am going to 
have a home of my own, Mr. Ward. I shall be able to 
see the question from both standpoints." 



"I hope you'll be spared our troubles," Mr. Ward 
spoke in a really serious tone this time. Then he add- 
ed with great heartiness : "The Lord bless you, Bar- 
bara. You have been like a daughter to us." He 
choked as he remembered Carl in Barbara's arms just 
a little before he passed over. "We shall miss you 
dreadfully. But we shall bid you God-speed. I don't 
know what the rest of Marble Square Church will do 
but you know that Mrs. Ward and myself will be loyal 
to our minister's wife." 

"O, I thank you. Mr. Ward. It means everything 
to mc," and Barbara retired somewhat hastily to the 
kitchen, where some tears of joy and feeling dropped 
on the familiar old table where Carl had so often sat 
watching her at work. 

Tliat evening Mr. Morton called. Barbara had 
finished her work, and was sitting with 'the family as 
her custom was, when Morton came in. 

There was a little embarrassment at the first greet- 
ing with the Wards, but it soon passed off and in a 
few moments the young minister was chatting delight- 
fully. His happiness was on his face and in his man- 
ner. He had never looked so noble or so handsome, 
Barbara's heart said to herself, almost wondering 
whether it was all a dream from which sihe would soon 



be rudely awakened. But k was no dream like that. 
Her heart sang as she began to realize its reality. 

"O, by the way," Mr. Ward said suddenly, turn- 
ing to his wife, "Martha, how about that rule that we 
made long ago, that the hired girl should receive her 
company in the kitchen? Why did I go to al! the ex- 
pense of furnishing that new kitchen if the girl is go- 
ing to sit here in the parlor?" 

Mr. Morton jumped -to his feet, and walked over 

to Barbara. 

"Come, Barbara," he said with a touch of humor 
that equalled the occasion. "Come out into the kitch- 
en where we belong. This is no place for us." 

Barbara rose, blushing and laughing. 

"Yes, I see. Just an excuse to get rid of us," Mr. 
Ward said as the lovers walked out. 

"We want to live up to the rule of the house," Mr. 
Morton retorted. 

They went out into the room where Barbara had 
spent so many hours of hard toil and, when they were 
alone, the minister said: "Dear, do you know, this 
room is a sacred spot to me? I have thought of you 
as being here more than anywhere else." 

"If I had known that," Barbara said gently, and 
she no longer avoided the loving brown eyes that 



looked down at her, "it would have lightened a good 
many weary hours. I feel ashamed now to think of 
the quantities of tears I have shed in this little room." 

"The thought that your life has gone out in serv- 
ice here, Barbara, is a beautiful thought to me. What 
a wonderful thing it is to be of use in the world! I 
thank God my mother brought me up to reverence the 
labor of the hand in honest toil. There is nothing more 
sacred in a!l of human life." 

Then they italked of their love for each other, and 
were really startled when the door suddenly opened 
and Air. Ward called out from the entry: "Gas and 
coal come high this winter. You can draw your own 

They rose laughing, and came back into the par- 
lor, where Mrs. Ward apologized for Mr. Ward's in- 

"Don't say a word, Mrs. Ward," Morton said gay- 
ly. "I shall soon have Barbara all to myself." 

■ How soon?" 

"I don't know quite." Mr. Morton looked at Bar- 

"There will be mourning in this household when 
she goes," Mrs. Ward replied. "I never expect to 
have another girl like Barbara." 

^->>^^^ J' 



"I'm sorry for you, but you can't expect me to feel 
any sorrow for myself." 

"Yes, that's it," Mr. Ward put in ironically. "You 
preachers are always talking about sacrifice, and giv- 
ing up, and all that. I notice that, when it comes to 
a personal application, you are just as graspihg after 
the best there is, as anybody." 

"Of course," said Morton cheerfully, looking at 


"He is going to suflfer for it, though." Barbara 
came to the rescue of Mr. Ward. "He may lose his . 
church just as you are going to lose me." 

"I don't think so," Morton answered calmly. "But 
if I do—" He did not finish, but his look at Barbara 
spoke volumes. It said that he had found something 
which would compensate for any earthly loss. 

When Morton had gone, Barbara slipped up to her 
room. Her happiness was too great to be talked 
about. The thought of what her lover, her "lover," 
she repeated, had said about service, about the image 
of herself daily in that kitchen, made her tremble. She 
had tried to accustom herself to the thought of Christ's 
teaching about service. Her study of the different 
passages in the Bible referring to servants had given 
her new life on the subject. It had all grown sweeter 


BOkyf TO SEkVK. 

and morp noble as she went on. And, now that her 
life had L en caught up into this other life, a newer 
and clearer revelation of labor and ministry had cotnc 
to her. Never had Barbara offered a truer prayer of 
thanksgiving than the one that flowed out of her heart 
to God to-night. Never had the depth and beauty of 
human service meant so much to her as now, when 
human love, the love sanctioned by Jesus and made 
holy by His benediction, had begun to translate com- 
mon things into divine terms. 

In her Bible-reading that night she found a pas- 
sage in the sixth chapter of Second Corinthians that 
pleased her very much. It did not belong first of all 
to the service of a house-servant; yet Barbara felt 
quite sure, as she read, that, if Paul had been ques- 
tioned about it, he would have said that the teaching 
applied just as well to house-ministration as to minis- 
tration anywhere else. This is the passage which she 
read : "Giving no occasion of stumbling in anything, 
that our ministration be not blamed ; but in everything 
commending ourselves, as ministers of God, in much 
patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in 
strifes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in 
watchings, in fastings ; in pureness, in knowledge, in 
long-suflfering, in kindness, in the Holy Ghost, in love 



unfeigned, in <the word of truth, in the power of God : 
by the armor of righteousness on the right hand ami 
on the left, by glory and dishonor, by evil report and 
good report ; as deceivers, and yet true ; as unknown, 
and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; 
as chastened, and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet alway 
rejoicing; as poor, yet mak. ny rich; as having 

nothing, and yet possessing a ...iUgs." 

"Have I been a 'minister of God?' How Otten 
I have complained and shed tears over little things 
as I have tried to minister to the needs of this house ! 
Surely at its very worst I have not endured the hard- 
ships that Paul speaks of. I know he is speaking of 
preachers, probably, of missionaries of the cross. But 
I am sure he mearxs that anyone who 'ministers' to the 
real needs of life is a 'minister of God.' And, if I have 
really been a minister of God, how little I have real- 
ized its meaning!" 

"Help me, my Father," Barbara breathed her 
prayer, "help me in the thankfulness for the great joy 
of my life to live as a servant of thine. Through all 
these possible hardships may I learn to keep close to 
Thee. Help me to bless other lives and give them 
encouragement and a true thought of ministry. It 
is all so wonderful, my Father ! Thou hast led me in 



ways so uni reseen by my poor selfishness. It is all 
too wonderful to me. Oh Thou Great but loving God. 
I thank Thee. In the name of Him who has redeemed 
me. Amen." 

It was the next d y that Barbara had a call from 
Mrs. Vane. 

The old lady had met Mr. Morton ; and, reading 
his happiness in his whole person, she asked him 
bluntly to tell her all about it. 

"My dear," she cried as she kissed Barbara on 
both cheeks and shed a tear out of her sharp eyes, 
softened by her love for Barbara, "I congratulate you 
both ! It is wonderful ; but I knew all the time that 
he loved you and would have you and I knew that 
you would give yourself to him. It is all as it should 
be. The Marble Square Church is a great institution, 
but it is not so great as love. I want you to be mar- 
ried at my house. Morton is one of my boys. I knew 
him as a child, and I love him as a son." 

"I don't think mother would allow me to go away 
from her, even to you," Barbara answered, smiling 
and blushing until she looked like a picture, Mrs. 
Vane and Mrs. Ward both thought as -they stood look- 
ing at her. "We have arranged to be married at 



'That's best ; ves, that's best !" The old lady nod- 



ded approvingly. "No church 
cheap or vulgar flaunting of self on the occasion of the 
most sacred experience in a girl's life. I always said 
Ralph Morton deserved the best woman on earth for 
a wife and he's getting her. The good God bless you 
both!" And the impulsive old lady kissed Barbara 
again ; and, when Barbara went back to her work she 
remained some time with Mrs, Ward, talking over the 
great event; for it was truly great to Barbara and 
Morton and his friends, and indeed to all Marble 
Square parish. 

For, when the news of the minister's engagement 
became known in Crawford, as it did in a very short 
time, because he made no secret of it, there was con- 
sternation in Marble Square Church and in society 

"Is it true?' Mrs, Rice solemnly asked Mrs, Wil- 
son fhe first time they met after the news became 
known, "is it really true that Mr, Morton is going to 
marry Mrs, Ward's hired girl ? It is simply awful. It 
cannot be." 

"I'm afraid it is," Mrs. Wilson answered, clasping 
her hands with a tragic gesture as if some terrible ca- 
lamity had taken place. "I had the information direct 



from Mrs. Vane, who had it direct from Mr. Morton 


"It will break up Marble Square Church, that is 
all !" Mrs. Rice said decidedly. "A thing like that is 
too serious a social departure for even Mr. Morton to 
make. As much as people like and admire him, not 
even his great talents can excuse such a great social 

"They iay," Mrs- Wilson suggested in a hesitating 
manner, "■that the girl is really well educated, and not 
just an ordinary hired girl. You know Mrs. Ward has 
told us something about her going out to service in 
order to help other girls realize its dignity and— and 
so forth." 

"It makes no diflference!" Mrs. Rice replied sharp- 
ly. "She is known as a hired girl. The idea of being 
obliged to look up to her as our minister's wife ! Will 
you submit to that?" 

"Supposing she proves worthy of her place?" Mrs. 
Wilson suggested feebly. 

"It's out of the ques-tion!" Mrs. Rice answered 
positively. "The whole thing is awfully unfortunate 
for Marble Square. If Mr. Morton had only chosen 
some girl of good social rank, Miss Dillingham, for 
example. But, as it is, I for one—" 


Mrs. Rice did not finish what seemed like a threat, 
but scores of other women in Marble Square felt and 
spoke just as she did, and the outlook for a great dis- 
turbance in the parish was very good. 

When Sunday came, Barbara prepared to attend 
service. She had not been for several Sundays, not 
since the time of the scene at the Endeavor Society. 
Mrs. Ward wondered at her lack of nervousness. There 
was a self-possession about Barbara, now that she had 
committed her future to the young minister, that Mrs. 
Ward admired. She began to have a real respect for 
her in addition to her affection. 

When Barbara went down the aisle with the family 
and entered the Ward pew with the rest, it is safe to 
say that every eye in Marble Square Church was di- 
rected toward her. What people saw, very many of 
theui to their great surprise, was a lovely face, free 
from affectation or superficial prettiness, without bash- 
ful consciousness of her prominent position. Every 
woman in the house could not help acknowledging, 
"She looks like a lady." Love had done much for Bar- 
bara. It is a wonderful power to dignify and bless. 

There were hundreds of people in Marble Square 
Church that morning who had just come from the 
perusal of one of Crawford's most sensational Sun- 



day papers, whic*h with a cruelty that was actually 
Satanic, and a coarseness that was actually criminal, 
had printed what it called, in staring headlines, "A 
Spicy Tale of a Hired Girl and a Preacher. The Rev; 
Mr. Morton, of the Fashionable Marble Square 
Church, To Wed a Hired Girl. Full Particulars of 
the Engagements. With Snap-Shot3 of the Parties." 
There were two columns of description that were 
worthy of authorship from the lowest pit, accom- 
panied with what purported to be reliable pictures 
of the two lovers. And it was from the perusal of 
all this horrible invasion of every sacred and tender 
private feeling that the human heart holds dear, that 
most of the men and women had come into church 
that morning to add to the sensation by almost as 
heartless and cruel a scrutiny of Barbara and Mr. Mor- 

Barbara did not know all of this ; but, even if she 
had, her love was so pure and great that it is doubt- 
ful whether anything could have obscured her per- 
fect happiness. When her lover rose to preach, she 
never felt more pride in him, or more confidence in his 

He fully justified all her expectations. Unlike 
Barbara, he knew quite fully all the venom and vile- 


myiffTRT /.sf DJTiyE. 


ness of the paper in question. On his way to church, 
grinning newsboys had flaunted the pages in his face 
and sliouted their contents in his ears. From all that, 
he had gone into his room, and after the sustaining 
prayer that had refreshed and quieted his soul he had 
gone out to face the people. But he had first faced 
God. He was not in the least afraid of the people after 


It is doubtful whether Marljle Square Church had 
ever heard such preaching before. It is doubtful 
whether Morton had ever before had such a vision 
or delivered such a message. The spell of his power 
was on all the great congregation. Hearts that had 
come to criticise, to sneer, to ridicule, were touched 
by ihis words. Members of his parish who after read- 
ing the paper had fully made up th^ir minds to sever 
all connection with the church changed their minds 
during the wonderfully sweet and helpful prayer that 
followed the sermon. Ah, Barbara and Ralph ! The 
Spirit of God is greater than all the evil of men. If 
victory cjmes out of all this suffering for you, it will 
be due to God's power over the selfish, thoughtless, 
cruel children of men. 

When the service was over, Barbara quietly went 
out with Mrs. Ward. In the vestibule they were met 


by Mrs. Dillingham, who had come out of the other 

door from a side ai=le. 

With scores o- r « .^le notingr what was said and 
done the majestic old lady greeted Barbara with a 
courteous and even kindly greeting that was unmis- 
takable and created a genuine sensation. Cor no fami- 
ly in all Marble Square Church had higher connec- 
tions than the Dillinghams. 

"My dear Miss Clark." Mrs. Dillingham had said, 
"your mother was kind enough to return my call. You 
have not been so good. Will you come and see me 


"Indeed I will. Mrs. Dillingham, if you have for- 
given my neglect of your invitation so far." 

"I'll forgive anything in a Dillingham. You don't 
forget you're one of us. as I have said before" 

She swept out of the vestibule grandly, holding 
her head a little higher than usual and Barbara 
blessed the nobility in her that was unspoiled by all 
her riches and social rank. Probably nothing that 
occurred that morning made a deeper impression so- 
cially. The old lady had not said a word about the 
engagement. She had too much delicacy and good 
taste. But it was just as plain as if she had welcomed 
Barbara as her minister's wife that she accepted the 



situation without a thought of remonstrance and was 
prepared to act loyally towards Mr. Morton, respect- 
\ng his choice and even ready to defend it before any 
and all of her influential acquain-tances. 

Miss Dillingham was at the other end of the vesti- 
bule while her mother 'vas talking to Barbara. She 
did not ap -"ch Barbara, and, so far as could be seen, 
did not even- look at her during the service. Her proud, 
handsome face was directed, however, with a fixed and 
painful gaze upon the preacher through all the serv- 
ice. If at the close Alice Dillingham calmly shut the 
door of her own heart over its dream of romance in 
which the talented preacher of Marble Square had be- 
gun to be adored, it may be that Barbara fully under- 
stood it ; and in avoidance of her by the one who had 
lost what Barbara had gained, Barbara saw no cause 
for personal ill will. When the heart aches, there are 
times when it must ache alone, and riches and beauty 
are no security and no comfort. 

The weeks that followed this eventful Sunday were 
crowded with incidents and meaning for Barbara. She 
remained nearly a month with Mrs. Ward, until help 
had been secured, and then with mutual sorrow the 
women parted, Barbara going home to make prepara- 
tion, with her mother's help, for her marriage. 


flOffV TO ftFRVF. 

"If you aren't suited with the situation you've 
found, you can come hack to us any time" Mr. Wanl 
said as his wife kissed T.arhara and made no attempt 
to hide her sorrow plainly shown by the tears on her 


"Thank you." responded Darbara.laughing through 

her tears, for it was a rea. grief for her to go; "I am 
afraid I sliall never come back. But, if you will come 
and see us, I will promise to bake some of your favor- 
ite dishes for you." 

She waved her hand to them as they l>oth came to 
the door and bade her an affectionate farewell, and 
soon turned the corner, with a grave consciousness 
that one very important chapter in her life had come 
to a close and a new one had begun. 

Three months after, Barbara was married at her 
mother's home. The few friends who had been faithful 
to her during the days of her service were present, the 
Wards, Mr. and Mrs. Vane, and Mrs. Dillingham, 
together with three of the girls from the stores whose 
friendship for Barbara had daily grown in meaning. 
A seminary classmate of Morton's spoke the words of 
the service in which God joined these two eager, car- 
nest Christian souls in one, and they twain became one 
flesh, and another home was added to those that al- 

j//\7sT/?T IS niviye. 


ready on the earth are the best witness to the possibil- 
ities of heaven among men. 

* * * * * * * 

Five years after this. Barbara and her husband were 
standing together one evening in the dining-room of 
the parsonage of Marble Square Church, evidently 

awaiting some guests. 

Ralph Morton was nodding approval of some little 
detail of the table furnishing, and Barbara was saying. 
"So lovely to have the old friends with us to-mght. 

isn't it, Ralph?" 

"Indeed it is. Although I could be satisfied with 
present company." the minister answered gallantly. 
He was still the lover as well as husband. 

"That's selfish." Barbara smiled as she came 
around to his side of the table and stood there with 
his arm about her. the love light in her eyes as 

strong as ever. . 

"I have never quite got over that interruption of 
Mr. Ward's the night I courted you in your kitchen," 

he said, laughing. ^^ 

"You have had f^ve years to make it up, sir, Bar- 
bara replied, answering his laugh with a caress, and 
as the bell rang she ran to the door to meet her 



"We've all come along together, you see," Mr. 
Ward said in his cheery fashion as he entered with 
Mrs. Ward and Mr. and Mrs. Vane and Mrs. Dilling- 
ham. "We have been over to the training school and 
looked at the new addition. It's a great help." 

The minister and his wife greeted them eagerly ; 
and, when they were seated at the table, after grace 
was asked the talk naturally turned about the work 
of the training-school and its results. A neat-looking 
girl with a pleasant, intelligent face came in to serve 

the first course. 

"Jennie," Barbara said, with a smile that revealed 
her winsomeness, and proved that the years had added 
to its power, "these are old friends of mine. You have 
met Mrs. Ward. This is Mr. Ward, Mrs. Dillingham, 
Mr. and 'Sirs. Vane, Jennie Mason." 

The girl nodded pleasantly in response to the 
words of greeting .given her, and when her work was 
over she went out. 

"Is Miss Mason one of your girls?" Mrs. Vane 
asked, rubbing her nose vigorously as her wont was 
when she had some particular problem in mind. 

"Yes, she is just out of the school. She is really 
fitting herself for hospital service, but wanted to take 
the course, and is with me this winter." 

MimSTRT 18 DtViyE. ^ 

"Are these her muffins?" Mr. Ward inquired sus- 

.niciously. . _ 

"No sir," Barbara laughed. "Those are mine. I 

made them specially for you in memory of the old 


"Ah we've never had any like tliem smce you 
left us for a better place, have we. Martha?" Mr. Ward 
said, turning to his wife. 

"No, not even the girls from Barbara's school can 
equal her," Mrs. Ward answered, giving Barbara a 
grateful look. The years had strengthened the.r 
friendship and love. 

"I don't see that the training-school has solved the 
hired-girl problem in Crawford." Mrs. Vane said, as if 
vexed at something she had heard. "Although it ,s 
wonderful what has been done in so short a time." 

"We've had our woes," Barbara answered with a 
sigh "It takes so long to make people see the divine 
side of service. Now, Jennie, as good and capable a 
girl as she is. longs to escape from the drudgery as she 
calls it. and become something besides a servant." 

"As long as humanity is what it is, I imagine 
that will always keep the problem unsolved. But I am 
sure the girls who go out of the school are learmng 
the beauty of service more and more every year." 



"1 can speak for the truth of that," Mrs. Dilling- 
ham nodded vigorously to Barbara across the table.. 
"The girl you sent me last week is a treasure. She 
is neat, competent, and Christian. I am ready to pay 
her the maximum wages at the start." 

Mrs. Dillingham referred to a scale of wages 
agreed upon in Crawford since the training-school 
was started. This scale was a mutual agreement be- 
tween housekeepers and servants, and was regulated 
by certain well-defined conditions of competency. It 
provided for a certain increase every month of a small 
amount, and had proved mutually helpful as far as 

"At the same time," Mrs. Ward said, "I don't be- 
lieve the servant-girl problem is mostly one of wages 
or work. I believe it is more a question or an un- 
derstanding on the part of those who go out to service 
of the opportunity to serve, and the real joy of being 
in a place where one is really needed by the homes of 
the worid." 

"Hear! Hear!' cried Mr. Vane, who was a rarely 
modest man and seldom took any extended part in the 
talk. "That's what Mrs. Morton has always preached, 
if I understand her." 

"Indeed, yes !" Barbara answered, her eyes flashing 



with enthusiasm. "All we have done so far in the 
training-school has been to make an honest effort to 
teach girls to be competent in the affairs of the house 
so far as its management is concerned, and after doing 
that comes the hardest part of it— to help the girls 
to see the divine side of service. That is particularly 
hard to teach, erpecially if, as in the case of several 
of our best girls, they have suffered injustice and un- 
christian treatment from so-called Christian women. 
That is still my greatest problem. I think I could 
soon furnish all the competent help that Crawford 
needs if housekeepers would do their part to solve the 
diflficulties, just as you helped me," Barbara added, 
turning to Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Vane. 

She was going on to add a word more to the little 
"preachment," as Mr. Morton called it, when the com- 
pany was startled by the appearance of a little figure 
in white, which had stolen down the stairs and sud- 
denly appeared in the dining-room. 

"Why don't I have any of this?" the figure said 
reproachfully, and everybody laughed while the child 
ran around to Barbara and put a curly head in her lap. 

"Now, then, little boys that are put to bed must 
stay there," Barbara said, smiling at the sweet face 
that looked up at her after the first moment. 



"Can't I stay and have some?" the child asked, 
p' ading a litt4e. "I dreamed you were having some 
goG.^. things without me, and I thought you would 
miss me; and— and— so— I came down." 

Barbara hesitated and looked over at the father. 
Ralph's lip trembled suspiciously, but he said quite 
gently, but firmly : "No, Carl, you must go right back 
to bed. It is too late for little boys to be up. We are 
very much obliged for your call, but we cannot ask 

you to stay." 

"All right," said Carl sturdily. He raised his face 
to his mother's, and kissed her, and marched sturdily 
out of the room. At the door he fired a parting shot. 

"If there's anything left, save Martha and me 

some " 

He vanished up the stairs amid a general laugh, 
and Mrs. Ward wiped her eyes. It was more than 
laughter that had brought tears to them. 

"I think you have the most beautiful children, Bar- 
bara. I never saw any that minded like your Carl." 

"I'm afraid they obey their father better than me," 
Barbara answered slowly. "But they are lovely chil- 
dren. Did you ever see anything more funny than 
the look on his face as he said, 'Why don't \ have 
some of this?' And as for Martha-" Barbara's eyes 



dimmed at the vision of that little one up-stairs ; and, 
when she came back to the conversation Mr. Ward 
was saying: "That was a trying time, Barbara. I tell 
you now, that I had no sort of expectation that you 
could hold your own in Marble Square. The night 
you were married I knew there were a dozen families 
fully intending to leave the church and never come 


"And yet they didn't. At least, not more than two 
or three. How do you account for it?" Mrs. Vane 
asked the question, and then answered it herself. 
"Plain enough. They learned to love the minister's 


"Same's I did," said Ralph, bowing to Barbara. 

"I knew I was safe all the time." 

"But there are some people that never have called 
on you yet, my dear?" Mrs. Dillingham asked. 

"Yes, quite a number," Barbara answered quietly. 
"It does not hurt me. I am very happy." 

The little company was silent a moment. Each 
was tracing in memory some of the eventful things of 
the" last five years. 

"It is a great work you and Mr. Morton have 
done," Mrs. Ward said at last. "When you came into 
my house, Barbara, six years ago, I was a fretful, 



irritable, cross woman. Your definition of Christian 
service really saved us our home. What you are do- 
ing for other girls in training them to have a divine 
thought of service is saving many other homes in 
Crawford. I know it because I see the effects on my 
friends wherever your girls have gone.* You will never 
know, Barbara, all the good you have done amongst 


"God has been very good to me," said Barbara 


"He has been good to us all," her husband added 


After supper Barbara went up stairs to see her 
mother and say good-night to her. Mrs. Clark had 
for two years been confined to her room through an 
accident. This was one of the cheerful burdens that 
Barbara had carried since her home began. She stayed 
with her mother for some time, and Ralph came up 
and joined her with Mrs. Ward, until the invalid or- 
dered them all down-stairs again. 

"The children are company for me," she said, and 
Barbara's tears fell as she said to Mrs. Ward, "I do 
believe mother is glad that she is one of the 'shut-ins.' 
She does enjoy Carl and Martha so! They play to- 
gether all the time, and even when they are asleep 



mother calls them company." She kissed her mother 
good-night and joined the company down-stairs. 

"O, did I tell you?" she said as she came down. 
"Ralph and I invited in a little group of friends among 
the young people to-night. They'll be here pretty 

"We hope they're from a class of society that is 
equal to ours, Barbara," said Mr, Ward gravely. "The 
last time I was here, Morton introduced me to a lot of 
people who work with their hands in making an hon- 
est living. That isn'^t the 'best society' you k..ow in 
Crawford." • 

Barbara looked at him humorously. 

"Remarks like that do not frighten me any more," 
she said. "The 'best society* to me is made up of 
people who have begun to learn the lesson of divine 
service for human needs." 

The young people arrived a little later. They were 
young men and women whom Ralph and Barbara had 
met and drawn into the circle of their companion- 
ship in service. There were eight or .ten girls who were 
out at service, and had been trained in the school as 
Barbara's own pupils. There were three or four g^rls 
from Bondman's, who were trying to live in little 
apartments, in one or two cases, to Barbara's own 


knowledge, in terrible danger of losing their virtue on 

account of their surroundings. 

The careless-looking girl was there, the one t«4iom 
Barbara had actually saved from the pit; and with 
the light of life in her transformed face she was living 
a useful life as manager of a temperance resUurant 
in* the city. She was engaged to one of the clerks in 
Bondman's, and they were to be married soon and 
begin a little business of their own in connection with 
the Restaurant. As Barbara watched them talking 
together with her husband, she said to herself "It is 
worth all it cost to save her," and only God and Bar- 
bara will ever know how much it cost and they will 

never tell. 

Then there were half a dozen young men from 
various places in the city, all of whom had no homes 
and had been saved by Morton from an aimless or 
sinful life. Nearly all of the young oeople were 
among the wage-«amers. 

There were Ught refreshments passed after an 
evening of animated talk interspersed with much good 
music and several games, in which Mr. Morton sur- 
prised even Barbara with his good spirit and an abUity 
like genius in setting everybody at ease. 

About ten o'clock the minister called the guests' 


attention to the hour, and said quietly. "We'll have 
our usual service to close with." 

Most of them seemed familiar with the custom at 
the parsonage, and the company was soon quietly 
seated in the two large rooms. 

Ralph turned to Matthew's Gospel, and read the 
passage in which Jesus Christ, the Son of God, de- 
fines tlie term "brotherhood." "While he was yet 
speaking to the multitudes behold, his mother and 
his brethren stood without, seeking to speak to him. 
And one said unto him. Behold, thy mother and thy 
brethren stand without seeking to speak to thee. But 
he answered and said unto him that told him. Who is 
my mother? and who are my brethren? And he 
stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and 
said, Behold my mother and my brethren 1 For who- 
soever shall do tho will of my Father which is in 
heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother." He 
commented on it bnefly, and then read the other pas- 
sage wliich conta is the matchless statement of serv- 
ice as given by Jesus again.-"For the Son of man 
oame not to be ministered unto but to minister and to 
give his life a ransom for many." 

"The world will solve all hard questions if it only 
brings enough love to bear upon them." he said, look- 



ing out earnestly at the silent, eager young life in the 
circle. "Love can do all things. If only we learn that 
service is divine, we can learn how to make a better 
world and redeem our brothers and sisters." 

He oflFered a brief prayer that the Father would 
bless all the lives present and all dear to them, and 
give them strength for another day's work after a 
night's peaceful rest; and after the prayer the guests 
quietly went away after a stror^j hand-shake and 
hearty 'God bless you* from the young preacher and 
his wife. Ah, Ralph and Barbara, only the judgment 
will reveal the number of jewels in your crown. For 
you have saved souls from death here and despair 

When Mrs. Dillingham went out, as she walked 
along with Mrs. Vane and the Wards, for they lived 
only a short distance from the parsonage, she said: 
"Well, there was a time when no one could have made 
me believe in the sort of evening I have s^ent to-night. 
I rubbed my eyes several times, thinking maybe I was 
resurrected, living in another world." 

"I don't think the millennium has come quite yet," 
said Mr. Ward, "not even in Crawford. And yet Bar- 
bara and Morton seem to have made a little one of 
their own around them." 

ji/y/STRF 18 DirnrB. 


"Perhaps that's the way the big one is going to 
begin," suggested Mrs. Vane wisely. 

When all the people had gone, Ralph Morton and 
Barbara reviewed the evening. 

"They had a good time, I -im sure. It's worth 
while isn't it, dear?" 

"Yes, even if I haven't solved the servant-girl 
problem like a mathematical thing with an exact an- 
swer," Barbara said, smiling. 

"Human problems are not solved that way, Bar- 
bara. I clways feel suspicious of an economic formula 
that claims to bring in the millennium like an express- 
train running on a schedule time. But this much we do 
know from our own experience : Love is the great 
solution, the final solution, of ail earth's troubles. We 
know it is, because God is love. And service between 
man and man will be what it ought to be when love 
between man and man is what it ought to be, and not 
until then." 

"I am glad," said Barbara, "4hat wc have learned 
that. I am glad that we were born to serve." 

"Amen," said Morton gently. "Thanks be to God 
for the Servant of the human race." 

So hand in hand these two, through their church 
and home, arc ministering to-day to the needy of the 

'fm' *f 

24J BOR'' TO .iLKVM. 

brotherhood. Hand in hand they look with the hope 
of God for the dawn of a better day and the victory 
ulu.'i always crowns the greatest of all human forces, 
the love of man for tnan.